


Iridescent

by ominous_owl



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Adventure, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Minor Violence, Mute Link, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Reader-Insert, Romance, Selectively Mute Link, Sex, Sexual Content, Sign Language, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Video Game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-13 17:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 85,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominous_owl/pseuds/ominous_owl
Summary: From the frosty peaks of Hebra to the tropics of Lurelin Village, your life as a traveler has taken you to numerous areas Hyrule.However, a brush of bad luck on your journey leads to a chance meeting with a handsome, quiet young man. His kindness is not easily forgotten, especially when it's followed by coincidental meetings that turn into a game of repaying favours.Yet all he wants to do is learn how to live a normal life and be treated like a human, not a saviour. And perhaps you could help him with that.
Relationships: Link (Legend of Zelda) & Reader, Link (Legend of Zelda) & You, Link (Legend of Zelda)/Reader, Link (Legend of Zelda)/You
Comments: 244
Kudos: 931





	1. Cyan

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfic in ten years. We'll see how it goes, I guess—updates won't have a schedule due to university and the attention it demands from me. I also don't know if this will ever be finished, but I hope the ride is fun until then.
> 
> There's no plot, this is all just pure fluff and slow burn.
> 
> For the most enjoyable experience, download the Word Replacer II extension at:  
https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/word-replacer-ii/djakfbefalbkkdgnhkkdiihelkjdpbfh
> 
> ...and use it to replace these phrases:
> 
> (Y/N) - your name  
(H/C) - hair colour  
(E/C) - eye colour
> 
> And that's all, folks. I hope you enjoy!

_ Rrrrrrrrgh. _

The deep, rumbling growl is enough to practically make my bones shake and could stop any person in their tracks. It’s low, and enough to make my hair stand on end, but what could it possibly be coming from?

A Moblin? Pah, those are nothing.

A Hinox? No, they tend to roar.

A Lynel? Again, wrong—even those fearsome maned beasts couldn’t compare.

It’s me.

I let out a sigh, resting a hand over my aching stomach as my appetite once again causes a loud groan. For miles now I’ve dragged my feet along the ground, kicking up dirt as I sluggishly meander down the path.

It wasn’t my fault—well, not really. If only I hadn’t gotten so cocky and had gone around the camp of Bokoblins rather than _ through _ it, then perhaps I wouldn’t be in this situation. If it was just Bokoblins, it would’ve been easy to take out those pathetic red gremlins. But _ no_, of course a band of Moblin reinforcements were called in by the scout’s primitive horn.

The scout would’ve been easily taken care of if my aim that I’m so proud of, well...actually proved itself useful. Instead one of my arrows grazed the foe’s ear, causing it to alert all other members of the camp to my presence. While they had formidable strength against the underprepared, I’ve prided myself in my speed and agility. Unfortunately, that also didn’t seem to be applicable that day. While dodging, jumping, and rolling over the low swings of crudely-fashioned wood and bone spears, one of those lucky bastards just barely managed to snag the bottom of my pack, ripping it open. Out fell my (hefty) wallet and remaining rations I’d stored to last me until I reached the next village.

Alas, that was two days ago. A cry of frustration leaves my lips (that still doesn’t sound as scary as my stomach does presently) and I swing my foot back to kick up a rock. It pings down the path and only serves to make me angrier—how could things have turned around so fast?

Well, whatever—it’ll be fine if I just stop moping. After all, Hateno Village isn’t that far if the stablekeepers at the Dueling Peaks were to be believed. Worse comes to worst, I’ll have just slimmed up a bit. Besides, I’ve been through much tougher circumstances and have come out on top.

After reminiscing over my regrettable actions, I finally snap back to it and blink my surroundings into focus. The sun is high in the sky, casting an array of shadows over the path. Tendrils that reveal themselves to be the rotted limbs of long-forgotten Guardians are splayed over the dirt, eager to trip up anyone unfortunate enough to not be paying attention. While they used to be machines of protection and then destruction, now they lie in complete and eerie silence. Nature has taken them back into her grasp, moss and vines growing up the sides of the stone to compete for the rays of sun. Wild horses graze around them and remain blissfully unaware of the danger they posed a short century ago. The amount of Guardians seems to increase as a shadow looms over me—the stone gate of Fort Hateno.

I give a small smile, feeling a tad more relieved as I pass under the shadow. If I continue to follow this path, it should hopefully take me to Hateno Village by nightfall. The thought of a third night with no food is practically unbearable and coerces my stomach into letting out another grumble, as if I didn’t hear it the first thirty-seven times.

As I pass under the rusted wrought-iron gates that have been pulled up and likely melded into place, a lush forest presents itself for miles ahead. Even better, after just a few paces there’s a small campsite that other travellers must’ve frequented as a rest stop.

My feet rejoice at the thought of rest, and carry me quickly to the fireside. The coals are dead and black, but that’s just fine—the day is warm enough as is. I roll my shoulders to let down my pack, swinging it at my side as I approach the shade of a tree. No sooner do I hunker down to rest, leaning back against the smoothed wood with my pack of (some) necessities at my side.

A yawn parts my lips as I wiggle back to get comfortable, shifting my weight before finally fitting snugly. There’s no harm in a short nap, especially since some hunger pains have kept me awake for the better parts of the night. With my arms crossed over my chest and the hood of my tunic pulled over my (E/C) eyes, they finally begin to drift shut.

That is, until I hear the heavy thumping of hooves approaching. There’s no such thing as being too careful, so I open an eye under my hood, watching to make sure they’re not a bandit or worse—a Yiga clansman.

The horse slows to a canter as it approaches, stopping at this same rest spot it appears. When it comes to a stop, the rider steps down with a small grunt and gives their companion a pat on the nose as it snorts appreciatively. Whoever it is fumbles in the travel bag strapped to their saddle before coming to the opposite side of the cooking pot. Finally my curiosity overcomes my caution and I slowly raise my head, allowing my hood to fall back a bit.

The traveller is a young man with messy straw blond bangs that fall down to perfectly frame his young face—I can see that his hair is longer in the back and he’s pulled it into a low and functional ponytail. He wears a tunic that most vagabonds consider to be standard, though it is a deep maroon colour with a navy hood. When he catches my eye and gives a kind smile and a small wave, I’m momentarily struck dumb.

His eyes are bright and lively, yet they are the most stunning shade of pure cyan that I’ve ever seen. Flecks of light only give them more depth and I briefly find myself lost in them until I clear my throat and wave back.

“Good afternoon,” I greet softly, still silently marvelling his eyes. He gives a nod back before crouching down to reignite the embers under the pot.

They quickly spark up again, showing me that he’s a seasoned adventurer and survivalist—most other people take quite some time to light the fires again. I shut my eyes to relax again, knowing I can rest easy. There’s something about his soft and friendly, boyish face that puts me at ease. For once maybe I can nap with no thoughts of being pickpocketed.

My breathing is steady, slowing as I feel sleep begin to tug me down and down…

That is, until I’m hit with a waft of heat, and coming with it is the heady scent of prime meat, herbs, and goat butter.

Instinctually my mouth waters, but I swallow and adjust my arms over my chest. _ Don’t think about it. You’ll be just fine until tonight. _ The smell is practically intoxicating, and the sound of sizzling butter alongside the lean prime meat is enough to make me bite the inside of my cheek. I cross my ankles as a small distraction, hoping that breathing through my mouth will maybe make the smell less irresistible…

_ Rrrrrrrrrrrgh. _

Immediately my (E/C) eyes snap open, body tensing when my stomach makes such a loud cry for attention. I can feel my face warming as I tentatively look up, finding the stranger looking at me in mild concern.

I clear my throat. “S-sorry, please don’t mind me.”

Before he can answer I bend my head forward again, praying for sleep to take me immediately or for Hylia to split the ground open where I sit and swallow me whole. I finally calm my heart enough from the embarrassment to at least seem collected, though my body remains rigid.

It’s torture to smell something so mouthwatering when I’m running on the energy of three slices of buttered bread that I ate two days prior. Does he even know what he’s doing? It’s difficult to not be crabby when I have to put every ounce of effort into stifling my complaining stomach.

I should honestly just grab my pack and go if it’s going to be this taxing. Goddesses, the smell only gets stronger with each passing second, it smells so decadent and I can practically _ feel _ the warmth of it on my face—

When I blink my eyes open, I’m met with the sight of the man resting back on his haunches and holding out a skewer of tender, sizzling prime meat. He tilts his head a bit and gives a subtle smile before lightly nudging it forward. _ Is he...offering it to me? _

“Wh—for me?” I stammer, uncrossing my arms and ankles, pulling down my hood. He only gives a nod and a sound of affirmation. “No, I couldn’t—thank you, but believe me, I know how hard it is to keep rations while travelling.”

He gives a small frown and his bright cyan eyes flick down to my stomach before back up to my face. It takes a considerable effort to stop my face from turning pink again.

“Really, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

The man looks extremely skeptical, as he should, and holds out the skewer once more, insisting. The last of my willpower wavers before ultimately breaking and I take the skewer as delicately as I can, resisting every urge to tear into it like a bear.

“Thank you, you’re...really too kind.” I give him a smile, my first genuine one in days (hunger aside). He just nods, his own smile giving him admittedly cute dimples before he pushes himself to his feet and grabs his own skewer from the cast iron pot.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he doesn’t talk much, because I restrain myself from ripping into the prime cut and instead take a polite nibble—immediately my manners fly out the window when the medium cook explodes with flavour in my mouth. The tender meat itself is magnificent, but combined with the careful rub of spices and the freshness of herbs, it’s the best thing I think I’ve ever tasted, and not just because I’m famished.

Four large cuts of meat are gone in less than three minutes, and I could care less if it results in a gut ache later. What is this guy doing travelling when he really should be a chef?

Speaking of, he rips off his third cube of prime meat with considerably less inhibitions than I first had. I clear my throat and throw the small wooden skewer into the hot coals. “That was _ delicious_. I don’t think I’ve ever had such amazing meat before.”

He gives a sheepish smile and keeps chewing, clearly pleased. Once again he motions to the pot where another two skewers neatly sit, finishing browning. _ He can’t possibly mean for me to take another! _

“A-another? No, really… You’ve already been too kind, and I don’t have anything to repay you with,” I defend, knowing that I’ve had enough to tide me over until this evening (though I could eat another three skewers with ease).

The young man rolls his eyes with a small smile, one cheek puffed with food. He gets to his feet and grabs one of the skewers from the pot and holds it out in front of me. My fingers curl into the material of my trousers, physically resisting the temptation. That is, until he playfully feints dropping it and I, perfectly falling for his plan, panic and catch it.

“You—!” I try to accuse, but there’s a smile on my face that matches his own before he plunks down again to finish his own. “...Thank you.”

I eat this one slower, savouring it even more than the first though I still scarf it down rather fast. When I finish it I let a comfortable silence sit between us before offering another, “Thanks. There...isn’t anything else I can say to show my gratitude.”

He shrugs, looking entirely pleased with himself as he digs into his second skewer.

“By the way...what’s your name?”

The kind stranger glances back to me before using his spare hand to write in the dirt next to him. His finger traces the letters of the Hylian alphabet, and I lean over a bit to read it.

“...Link?” He nods for the nth time. “Nice to meet you, Link. I’m (Y/N).”

Link just gives a smile before going back to finishing his meal. I don’t want to pester him, but... he does pique my interest. “So, where are you heading?”

He turns and gives a small jerk of his chin to the east.

“To Hateno Village?” I venture.

Another nod.

A smile curves my lips and before I know what I’m saying, I offer, “I’m heading there too—mind having some company?”

Link chews with his mouth still full, but gives a thumbs up. It seems I may be able to learn a bit more about this generous stranger.


	2. Carmine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you're met with a familiar face.

The bright chirping and chattering of birds fills the comfortable silence between Link and I. The leaves contribute with their own chorus played by the wind, sounding like water rushing over us. Even beyond the gates of Fort Hateno the shadows still sway, painting the path and forest a luscious shade of emerald.

I continue down the path with my tarnished pack, walking alongside Link’s horse—a stunning mare with a shining mahogany coat and an ivory mane. When I had asked for the name of such a gorgeous horse, he wrote it in the dirt with his foot: _ Epona_. What a fitting and elegant name, though it did seem familiar...

After putting out the fire by smothering it with some flat rocks, we each gathered our things. Link stowed everything away in his traveller’s bag and I didn’t really have much to do other than examine the rip in the bottom of my own satchel, which had frayed from the jagged bone spear. I’d have to sew it once I got a chance, and pay those bastards back tenfold for what they did.

Though normally I find silences awkward and tense, this instead is comfortable and I’m strangely unbothered. It doesn’t help that Link seems to have such a trustworthy nature. _ Does he have this disarming effect on other people too? _

As we walk along I have to confess to giving him some spare glances—his face is quite easy on the eyes, I have to admit. That is until he finally catches me in the act, his bright eyes blinking before he turns a bit and pats Epona’s rump.

“...To sit?” I query to clarify and he nods, giving another pat to her smooth coat. “Oh, I’m fine. You’ve already done so much, I can’t imagine taking any more.”

Link doesn’t appear to be entirely convinced, so I shrug and let my (E/C) eyes gaze forward again. “Besides, I like actually like walking.”

Especially as a traveller, I would have to get used to it. While I previously had enough rupees to purchase a mare for myself I’d decided against it. There’s so many sights you miss when you’re running past them on the back of a horse, and perhaps it sounds nonsensical, but I prefer to hike. It lengthens the journey and raises my anticipation of arrival at each location I go to, and besides that, I firmly believe that part of the adventure is the journey.

That seems to sate Link and he nods, facing forward as well. I’m drawn back to my previous thoughts, biting the inside of my cheek. _ Epona, Epona...where have I heard that name? Hmmm..._

It hits me and I give a small snap of my fingers which is enough to catch the young man’s attention. “Epona...you named her after the legendary hero’s horse?”

The question almost takes a moment to process for him, as though he weren’t sure himself or is deciding how to answer. After a slight delay he gives another nod.

“I knew it sounded familiar. I couldn’t place it until now. It’s definitely fitting.” A gentle hand of mine raises to pet Epona’s side affectionately. She’s hardly bothered and appears to have a very gentle temperament. “And she’s so well-behaved, too. I don’t think I’ve seen such an obedient horse.”

Link gives his own subtle smile and leans forward to pet the mare’s neck, giving a sound of encouragement that brings a smile to my face too.

I don’t make many more attempts at conversation—why should I when the silence is already satisfying? Though normally I’d bombard someone with questions, or at least chat, if I found them intriguing, something about him strikes me differently. It’s comforting in its own right.

  
  
  
  


The sky has painted itself a brilliant shade of orange by that evening, the colour seeming to blossom across the expanse like watercolour. The wind has died down and takes the calls of midday birds with it, leaving the forest with clicking grasshoppers and cawing of ravens overhead.

While the light dies down and some early fireflies briefly flash their colours, a wooden sign along the path reading _ Hateno Village _is large enough to be legible in the dim light.

I give a sigh and stretch out my back as Link and I approach it, eventually coming to a halt. “Well, here’s my stop. Thanks for sticking around and helping me earlier.”

Epona slows and dutifully stops at my side and her young rider gives a small nod, setting down her reins before moving his hands and fingers to sign something. _ Ah, now I understand why he wasn’t talking. _Unfortunately, I’m not all that familiar with sign language. 

“Sorry, I can’t actually, uh...read sign language.”

It seems this isn’t the first time he’s been told that and he moves his hands slower, mouthing the words. It takes me a moment but eventually I get it by watching the enunciation of the letters.

_ Okay, goodnight. _

I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips, especially since it’s the first (and perhaps last) thing he’s said to me.

“Night. Sleep well.” That time I do flash a warm smile and give a wave as he picks up the reins once more, giving a light flick. Link returns the wave and smile before he eventually turns and heads up the path to the village, leaving me standing along the edge of the woods.

Normally this is when I’d look forward to a bed and a warm bath, but I unfortunately don’t have that luxury right now. With a heavy exhale I head back down the path by a few dozen feet to scout for a suitable place to set up camp for the night. I click my tongue before humming a common drinking song under my breath, my eyes scanning the thicket and surroundings before one place finally catches my eye—a large slab of rock partially sticks up from the ground, supported by another slab of stone that raises up from the soil, bits of broken earth and grass still clinging to it. It’s a shallow but functional cave and saves me time trying to construct a shelter, which I prefer not to do when I can’t see my own hand in front of my face.

I head to the overhang of stone, sitting underneath it and letting my pack slip down my shoulders. It’s not too cold and I still have no food, so I don’t bother making a fire. Luckily the weather is favourable and has apparently taken pity on me, only dipping down to a slight chill.

Once my thin wool sleeping roll has been unclipped and spread over the uneven ground, I use my toes to shuck my leather boots before eagerly crawling under the sheet. I begin my nightly ritual of patting my leg to ensure that my hunting knife is still firmly strapped there, and then slide my shortsword closer and within arm’s reach. After all, you can never be too careful—a lesson I’m currently being taught the hard way.

I give one last glance to the east towards Hateno Village before finally hunkering down and shutting my eyes, drifting into an undisturbed, heavy sleep with a satisfied appetite.

  
  
  
  


When I wake up I’m luckily only greeted with a stiff, sore back and not much else. I yawn and stretch my arms over my head, arching my back and holding until the muscles loosen. With a satisfied secondary yawn, I flop back down before rolling over—it doesn’t seem too early, perhaps seven or eight, and I allow myself a few more moments in the blissful warmth of my wool roll before forcing myself up.

I’ve travelled all this way and it’d be a shame to waste a perfectly good morning, especially when it’s not snowing or raining like it should be at this time of year.

Before long I have my meager belongings packed up and shoulder my bag. With a roll of my shoulders I set off into the town, heading up the same path Link went yesterday. As I head over the crest of the hill, I can hear the giggling of children and snippets of everyday conversations, from mothers gossiping to hungover men giving some complaints. Already everything is so lively and I turn as I walk, stepping backwards for a few strides.

Even as a modest town, it still seems to have some comfortable establishments: houses, a general store, an inn, and even a clothing boutique. My heel turns in the dirt as I face forward again, glancing to my right to see a rather unique sight—a dye shop.

The shop’s sign is bright and colourful, with vials of dye strung up for advertising. _ We live to dye! _reads the sign at the entrance, getting a small exhale of a laugh from me, yet that isn’t what catches my eye.

A head of straw-blond hair is instantly recognizable after I do a second take. Link stands as he discusses something with the dye shop’s owner, hands on his hips as he stands casually. I smile to myself before striding over and calling, “Morning, Link!”

He turns, a bit surprised at first, before giving a nod to return the sentiment.

“Ah, and nice to meet you as well—I’m (Y/N).” I hold my hand out to the shop’s owner, who appears to be an eccentric but lively man with a head of bright red hair.

“Sayge,” he greets in turn, taking my hand. “And _ hue _ do you do?”

I open my mouth before shutting it again, unable to help myself from snickering. Link similarly gives a sheepish smile and a small roll of his eyes.

“Did you really just make a colour pun?” I question, placing my own hands on my hips.

“Perhaps—or it could be a _ pigment _ of your imagination.” He cackles at his own joke.

I give a groan, shaking my head with a grin before peering back to Link. “I thought you would’ve gone through Hateno Village. I didn’t know you’d be stopping here!”

He just gives a shrug, his expression still sheepish, before he gestures to the counter of the dye shop. On it lay a pair of trousers and a common, low-collared shirt similar to the one he’s currently wearing, which is a bright shade of blue.

“You’re dyeing them?” I lean over to peer around him and see the outfit.

Link gives a nod of affirmation as Sayge steps behind the counter. “You simply must stay to see the traditional, full-body dye! So you wanted to dye this outfit burgundy, hmm?” Sayge asks, prompting Link’s nod. “Then I’ll just need some ingredients—the easiest would be chickaloo tree nuts.”

I glance to Link, who frowns subtly before patting down his pockets. When that doesn’t seem to turn up anything him he then pats over his breast pocket and then his bottom. He comes up empty-handed.

Before I’m even aware that the words have left my lips, I suggest, “I could go find some.”

Link blinks over at me in mild surprise with his captivating blue eyes, looking as though he wants to dispute the favour like I did yesterday. “C’mon, you helped me out the other day. Let me at least return the favour.”

He seems to consider it before giving a little nod and raising his hands to smoothly sign, though I read his lips instead. _ Please and thank you_.

“No worries. I’ll go find some and drop them off here if I don’t run into you again.”

Link gives another sign of thanks before I turn and with a wave, heading off to scavenge for some chickaloo nuts in the brisk morning.

  
  
  
  


By mid-afternoon I’ve managed to find approximately two dozen, though it probably would’ve been wise if I asked Link exactly how many he needed to make the dye. I just pile them into the front of my tunic which I’ve pulled up to use as a makeshift basket. Most of the nuts were found at the bases of trees from birds who had dropped them, which served to make my job a bit easier. When I have a total of twenty-seven I figure it’s enough to dye at least the shirt (I hope).

I hum to myself, a wife’s working song instead of a drinking one. The woods can get so eerie with pure silence, even if the wind in the leaves is comforting—humming is a habit I’ve had for years, and nearly hundreds of songs have passed me by.

By the time I make it back into town, the edges of the sky have just begun to tinge a pale yellow. Around four o’clock, I would assume. _ I hope I haven’t left Link waiting too long. But I know where to look if he needs more than this. _ I head up the path and step around some playing children, mindful of the chickaloo nuts in my tunic. The bright sign for the Kochi Dye Shop comes into view and my pace picks up, heading inside to see Sayge.

Upon seeing me he exclaims, “Ah, it’s (Y/N)! And with all the ingredients—_colour _ me impressed.”

I let out another elongated groan, tilting my head back before my groan dissolves into quiet laughter. “Yep. I didn’t know how many were needed, so…”

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see the telltale azure eyes of Link, who spares a small smile. He’s changed into the outfit he wanted to dye.

“Hey! Wasn’t sure if I’d catch you again. Also…” I fumble but get onto my toes so I can unfold my tunic and let the chickaloo nuts roll onto the counter with a chorus of clicking. As I brush off my tunic I continue, “I didn’t know how many you needed, but I hope this will be enough for at least the shirt?”

His eyes widen as he sees the few dozen chickaloo nuts. Sayge speaks up with, “This would be enough for four—no, five outfits!”

“_Really?_” I ask incredulously, gazing down at the small shells that are no larger than my pinky finger. Link smiles and gives a sound of what I can only assume to be joy, and it feels rather contagious. “You can go ahead and keep them. I won’t be needing them.”

He looks ready to refuse, but I raise a hand to stop him before he begins. “No take-backs.”

Link’s slim shoulders slump though he’s grateful and signs what I now recognize to be _ thank you_.

I chuckle. “You’re welcome—now, didn’t you say I had to see this?”

Sayge gives a triumphant laugh and nods, taking only a handful of nuts. “Link, if you would please step upstairs.”

The young man does so and I stay where I am, watching the eccentric owner grind up the ingredients with a mortar and pestle before scraping the contents into a large basin right under where Link stands. _ Wait...is he going to…? _

Sayge steps back and before I can even finish my thought, the floor swings out from under Link. He gives a cry of surprise, though it’s cut off by him ungracefully plunking into the vat of dark water below. After a few moments his head surfaces, and even that has been dyed a shade of faint carmine as the water runs down his face. He shakes out his hair much like a dog, giving a joyous laugh.

  
In this moment I realize that Link is _ definitely _more interesting than I initially thought he’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that this story takes place 2 years after the defeat of Calamity Ganon in the first Breath of the Wild.
> 
> Link is tired. Link has retired. This boy needs a rest after being a hero for 100+ years. He's like, 19 or 20. Not including the 100 year sleep, obviously.


	3. Amber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you learn that your new friend is kind of a dork.

I’m still chuckling even when Link has pulled himself out of the dye basin, dripping profusely onto the wooden floor with his arms out and the material of his shirt and slacks stuck to his skin. Streaks of his hair have turned a darker auburn colour from the dye, but his clothes have become a rich shade of carmine.

He’s grinning widely as he awkwardly waddles over, still making a mess and trailing burgundy footprints wherever he goes despite how he tries to minimize the mess. Link gives a wave goodbye to the shop owner before glancing to me, giving a jerk of his chin as an invitation to join him.

I lightly jog to before slowing, walking at his side (though a few feet away). He gives another small giggle, smiling at me with those dimples appearing on his cheeks like yesterday. “I didn’t know that you had to dunk your whole body—couldn’t you just put in the clothes?”

Link shakes his head, still beaming as he raises his hands to sign, mouthing the words slowly for me to catch on. _ It’s more fun. _

We walk through the town, children still giggling and lively as they were at the break of dawn. Some laugh and point to Link, greeting him as we head past with small choruses of, “Hi Link!” “Afternoon, Master Link.” “Hello!”

I’d give him a playful nudge if he weren’t, well, covered in permanent dye. “Look at you, Mr. Popular.”

He gives a sheepish smile and scratches the back of his neck as we come to a wooden drawbridge, across which I can see a homey cottage built from stone with terracotta roof tiles. It’s certainly quaint and is bordered by apple trees, and of course a grove of wildflowers is the final touch for such a picturesque, humble abode. We cross the bridge and approach the cottage, coming to a stop just before I read the mounted wooden sign reading, _ Link’s House_.

“Oh—_oh _, this is your house?” I finally connect the dots, evidently a bit slow on the uptake.

He gives a nod and steps under the wooden latticework that overhangs the doorway, reaching a hand out to the doorknob before pausing. Link frowns, pulling his (wine-coloured) hand back to examine. After apparently contemplating something, he turns to me and points to the door.

I open the door for him so he doesn’t stain the brass of the doorknob or the wood of the frame. I step aside so he can go in, but he doesn’t move much and gives another sheepish look before motioning to himself, lightly pulling the shirt from his chest and letting go. It gives a _ thwap _ as it sticks back to his skin.

“Clothes…?” I venture, unsure. Link gives a nod and clasps his hands, mouthing, _ please_. “O-oh, uh, sure. I mean, I can just grab a shirt and pants—is that okay?”

He gives another nod and a sound of affirmation before turning to head around the corner of the cottage. I feel a bit awkward just waltzing into his house, but he did give me permission, so I suppose it’s okay. Once I step out of my boots and onto the hardwood floor, I scour the room for where a closet may be, though instead my focus is drawn to the multiple mounts on his walls: bows, shields, and weapons, it seems.

Ornately carved bows with feathers have been placed neatly on their mounts, opposite to decoratively carved shields that would cost more than I make in a month. The weapons are all shapes and sizes, but some stand out to me.

One is a hefty club of what seems to be pure steel, which has been chipped along some edges but appears to be more than twice my weight—I quietly marvel at the thought of someone wielding it, but when I see the telltale pawprint-like symbol on the surface, I immediately give an _ oooh _ of understanding. Of course it’d have to be a Goron weapon; no Hylian would be able to wield something like that.

The other is a platinum trident that seems to glimmer even in the dim light of the cottage, embedded with aquamarines and ruby. Elegant doesn’t even begin to describe such a weapon—no, not a weapon, but a piece of art. The extraordinary shape reminds me of the trademark legendary architecture of the Zoras, but I can’t be sure.

Soon enough I snap out of it and look around, murmuring, “clothes, clothes,” to myself until I see a pair of closet doors on the second level. I hop up the steps and open it up, not bothering to snoop even though I’ve been presented with a prime opportunity to do so. It already feels weird enough being in his house at all. I hardly examine the contents of the closet and just swipe for a blue tunic and standard slacks, folding them over my arm before shutting the door and heading back outside. Hanging from the side of the lattice is his newly-dyed clothing, swaying gently to dry in the wind.

I saw Link step around the corner of the house, so I follow suit and head around the corner, calling out, “Link? I got some clothes, I hope they’re okay.”

As I peek around the corner, I see what I can only guess is an outdoor shower stall made from the same lacquered wood as the rest of the house. A pair of feet on the cobblestone ground only confirms my suspicion, which I can see from where I stand. 

I tentatively walk up, a bit awkward, but I announce, “I’m just going to put them over the top of the door, okay?”

Luckily I can just barely see Link’s hand pop above the stall’s door with a thumbs-up. I get onto my toes to drape the outfit over the stall before backing up. I casually lean against the wall of his house, unsure what else to do, but after a few minutes of silence, something strikes me as off. _ Shouldn’t I hear...water splashing? Or something? _

I clear my throat before calling, “Uh...Link? Do you...need anything? I just noticed you’re, uh...standing there.”

Of course there’s no response, and I hope he doesn’t think me to be rude as I suggest, “Do you need water? Knock once for yes, twice for no.”

_ Knock. _

I’m unable to help myself from snickering. First the clothes, now water to even bathe. He’s definitely not the most organized person I’ve met.

“Okay, I can...get some water? For you?” I scour around for a bucket but come up empty, until I hear a scuffle and then see a wooden bucket being held up and over the shower door. I quickly come over and hold my hands out to take it. Once his hands are free, Link once again clasps his hands as a way of saying _ please and thank you_.

I just give an exasperated laugh as I take the fastened rope handle and turn to head the opposite way, down the incline leading from the far side of his house to a pond I saw earlier when crossing the bridge. I hum as I head down the hill, allowing my gaze to wander and appreciate my surroundings. Lush temperate forests seem to be plentiful here, and there’s quite a few areas of wetland too.

When I’m at the water’s edge I dunk the bucket under, taking a deep inhale before using my legs to lift and not my back—it’s certainly heavy and though my arms are lean from years of using a bow, they still lack in strength but make up for it in endurance. Either way, I’m sugarcoating the fact that this bucket is heavier than hell. With a grunt I begin to head back uphill, trying not to focus on the burning I feel in my forearms. Funny how such a short walk back can suddenly feel like I’m walking from Gerudo to Akkala.

After my pitiful attempts to distract myself, I make it back to Link’s house and am more than grateful to put the bucket down. My arms sing to rejoice the relief of the weight, and I take a moment to try and disguise the fact that I’m winded. “Link, there’s no way I’m going to pass that over the door. I’ll just leave it here and go back around the front.”

I turn on my heel to head back around and to the fireplace I’d seen earlier, under the pleasant shade of a thick oak tree. The sun has begun to set and a slight chill is seeping into the evening breeze, but I hardly mind. After trekking through Hebra during a blizzard, nothing is truly cold. Soon enough Link has presumably washed himself down and gotten dressed, and I can hear the creaking of the wooden door opening. I still avert my eyes just in case, until he heads to a covered woodpile and then approaches to kneel at my side.

His hair is damp but no longer burgundy, becoming a dirtier blonde, and hangs down in longer locks without a ponytail. He still appears boyish but is definitely as handsome as I originally thought he was. Link’s face is soft and almost cherubic in nature, appearing young with a small nose and his bright blue eyes. He sets the logs down before grabbing a woodcutter’s axe that was apparently embedded in the other side of the tree.

Link comes back over and takes the logs, giving small whacks to shave off some wood into thinner twigs. When he has a sizable amount of them, he sets them under the cooking pot and arranges the other logs around it in a house formation. He glances around, searching for something, until I get an inkling of what he needs.

I fish through my pocket and hold out my own chunk of flint and hunting knife I use for starting fires. “Here.”

Link turns and quickly signs a _ thank you _ before taking them. He uses them both to generate a spark before letting the fire get enough air to spring to life. Once the flame begins to grow and consumes the smaller sticks, licking the blackened underside of the cast iron pot, he sits back at my side to rest against the tree and hands me back by knife and flint.

He rests his hands behind his head and gives a yawn, prompting one from me too. The growing fire is a bright shade of amber, growing and giving off a wonderful ambient warmth. It’s practically soothing, and I could fall asleep if it weren’t for the tap on my shoulder. I turn to glance at Link, who uses his finger to write in the nearby ashes leftover from previous fires.

_ Stay for dinner? _

A warmness blooms in my chest at the thought of sharing a meal with him as well as our growing friendship, but I instead make a bargain.

“What about tomorrow night? Then I can bring some stuff too. Like a potluck.”

Link seems to like that idea and nods, signing, _ Thank you_. He then uses his finger to proceed and write in the ashes, _ That sounds nice. _

He rests back to the thick trunk of the tree at my side, both of us relaxing in the warmth of the fire’s amber glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Link's house has definitely gotten some renovations since it was first constructed. Like a stable and other stuff he probably needs.
> 
> And whatever else I want, I guess.


	4. Fallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you share a heartfelt meal.

I sneak under the brush, staying low to the ground as I step over roots and uneven ground. The branches practically part for me as I make my way through the thicket, my breathing slow and nearly silent. Though my thighs ache from the low position I don’t dare to rest and keep moving forward, bracing one hand against a rock as I hop down the slippery, damp ground.

My (E/C) eyes are as sharp as a predator’s as I traverse forward, paying no mind to the bug bites I’m likely subjecting myself to. My ears prick at the sound of leaves being disturbed and rustled, and I lower down closer to the ground and onto my haunches.

Once I have my sights, I swiftly draw back my nocked arrow. Without giving my arms any time to fatigue I let the tail go, and the arrow shoots through the air with nary a whistle.

A short bleating cry can be heard before a heavy thump, and I feel pride bloom in my chest. My thighs thank me as I finally stand straight and jump forward, feeling a bit wobbly as I lean down to inspect the young elk buck. He’s a decent size but not too big that I’ll be wasting what he has to give—the arrow unfortunately hasn’t gone cleanly through the eyes, but instead in one eye and out the other temple. It’s not as messy as some of my regretful first kills while travelling.

I set to work skinning the meat and draining the blood to prevent spoilage, holding my breath as I throw aside the offal I won’t be needing. I’m sure to be meticulous in my deboning, which has been a steep learning curve but I’m much better at it now. When I have the pelt folded over my arm and about my weight in lean meat wrapped in a large cheesecloth slung over my shoulders, I take a breath before heading on out—I’ll come back for the antlers later. My bow and quiver is strapped to my hip, so I hope that I won’t be needed to defend myself on the way back since I won’t be prepared.

Luckily my legs are much stronger than my arms, so while carrying a bucket of water is pathetically hell, piggybacking these quartered cuts is much easier.

An hour or so has passed by the time I get back to my cave-camp and wrap the cuts of meat in the butcher paper that I bought when staying in Kakariko Village, and fortunately didn’t lose during the Bastard Attack of four days ago. I wish I’d lost the butcher paper rather than my wallet and rations.

The afternoon is just chilly enough for me to see my breath, which is an upside for preserving the meat until I can dry it. My morning was spent scavenging for some top-notch, natural ingredients to include for dinner tonight. _ With Link, _ my mind makes a point of adding. I’ll make him the best elk stew he’s ever had, I swear on the goddesses.

  
  
  
  


By the time the evening rolls around, I have three decently-sized quarters and my pack stuffed with the other ingredients I scavenged. One of these cuts will be enough for the stew but the other two are a gift to Link for helping me out so much—I feel like I’ve hardly done anything worthy of repaying the favour.

As I head up the slope and into Hateno Village before turning onto the wooden bridge, I can already see Link outside stoking the coals underneath his cooking pot. When he catches sight of me he raises a hand to wave, which I gladly return as I head over.

“Evening! I’ve got everything I need.” Link’s hands rest on his hips as he leans to see. “Hey, no peeking! I’m going to make you the best elk stew you’ve ever had. And you can’t see my secret recipe.”

He gives a small pout but obliges before heading back to the pot with me in tow. The coals are a perfect flickering orange, small crackles sending plumes of sparks spiralling into the air. I head over to the thick oak tree where I rested just the day prior, and set down my pack bursting at the seams with scavenged items.

“Oh, before I forget… These are for you.” I hold out two of the three cuts of meat I’ve wrapped in butcher paper. Link’s stunning blue eyes blink in surprise, looking down at them before back up and giving a questioning glance. “You’ve helped me a lot and the only thing I’ve really done is...collect chickaloo nuts. I hoped this would make us even?”

Link motions to the pot and then to my pack.

“Mhm. I’m making supper, too.”

Now he appears to be the one who can’t understand how the favours match up. He signs slowly and mouths, as I’ve learned, _ Are you sure? _

“It’s fine, I promise. I wanted to thank you,” I say sincerely, unwrapping the last sizable slab of lean elk meat. “But if I could bother you…”

He immediately perks up and I have to admit, seeing his ears twitch a little bit is definitely adorable. “Would you have a knife and cutting board I could borrow?”

Link nods and holds up a finger for me to wait a moment as he heads into his house. The door stays open and I hear some rummaging, cabinets opening and shutting, drawers sliding, and then he steps back out and kicks the door shut. He has a thick wooden board for cutting and a butcher’s knife, and in the other hand, a bottle of red wine with a worn label.

“I think you’ve gotten one too many things,” I joke, taking the board and knife he hands me. He shakes his head and mouths, _ Potluck. _

I say a silent _ ohhhh_, before nodding and chiming in with, “Thank you! That’s really sweet. What kind is it?”

Link turns the label over and reads through it before turning it to me and pointing at the variety. “A...plum Cabernet Sauvignon?” I have to reread the label, my eyes narrowing. _ That’s one of the most expensive varieties out there, how did he even have this? _“Whoa, where did you get this from?” I ask incredulously, eyes widening.

Link lowers the bottle before I can further read the elongated calligraphy written over the fallow brown label or even see the winery that made it, instead giving an amicable shrug. He clearly isn’t one to brag and is definitely humble, from what I’ve gathered in the three days of knowing him. I’ll have to settle for his slightly sheepish smile before he heads back inside to grab the wine glasses he forgot.

I give a laugh under my breath before turning back to elk, cutting it into evenly-sized cubes with precision even if I’m a bit slow. Link’s returned and pops the cork of the bottle with his own knife before pouring the deep, reddish-purple and aromatic alcohol into the two glasses he’s brought.

Once I’ve finished dicing I slide the meat into the cooking pot where Link has graciously already placed some goat’s butter. Immediately the sound of sizzling fills the air, practically music to my ears as I grab my wooden ladle from my pack. It’s sturdy and I’ve definitely used it to fend off some creatures who caught me unawares. However ineffective a utensil may be, it still packs quite a wallop.

I stir around the meat to evenly coat the cubes in butter before heading to my pack. “Okay, you’ve got to turn around when I add this stuff. It’s a secret.”

Link shakes his head with a sigh but dutifully turns as I begin to quickly dice up the Hylian shrooms and herbs I’d so painstakingly hunted for this afternoon. When they’ve been scraped into the pot I grab the lump of rock salt I keep wrapped in cheesecloth, and use my borrowed knife to shave off a generous amount for flavour.

He pretends to tap his foot impatiently, prompting a chuckle as I say, “Soon, soon. Promise.”

Finally, my secret ingredient: some Goron spice I was lucky enough to pick up at the Kara Kara Bazaar a few weeks ago—it’d been forever since I’d been able to find some again. It cost me an arm and a leg at the price those merchants bastards were selling it for, but I just couldn’t waste that chance.

I tap the bottle to pour in some of the bright red spice before swiftly stuffing everything back into my tarnished bag and stirring. “Okay, now.”

Link turns and instantly comes over as though magnetically drawn, his hands on his hips as he leans to inspect. I can see a small wrinkle form between his brows as they lower in thought, managing to get a smirk from me. “Trying to guess?”

He nods, one hand coming to hold his chin in an inquisitive manner. Link opens his mouth as if ready to guess before shutting it again. After another minute of him thinking and myself stirring, he stands straighter and signs while mouthing.

“...Birds?”

He shakes his head.

“Herds?”

He frowns in mock disgust, enunciating more.

“Oh, _ herbs!_ Sorry, sorry.” Luckily he takes it in stride and gives his own slight smile. “Yep, there’s herbs.”

Again he signs and this time I catch it on the first try. _ Mushrooms? _

“Mhm,” I singsong as I keep stirring, watching the meat brown and become tender. When I know everything’s mixed, I grab the weighty cast iron lid for the pot and put it on top so the stew can simmer. “And now we wait.”

I head back over to the tree to sit, and Link brings over the glasses of wine, handing one to me which I take by the stem. “I’ve had some cheap cabernet, but never a Cabernet Sauvignon like this…”

Link brightens a bit at that and raises his glass, so I mirror him and raise mine to gently clink. “What should we toast to?”

He ponders it for a moment before mouthing, _ Friends. _

“To our friendship, then.” I happily give another clink before swishing around the rich wine, allowing myself to indulge in the rich and sweet plum aroma. I’ve never claimed to be a wine connoisseur, but I know this is some of the best Hyrule has to offer.

We each take a sip and no sooner do my eyes widen, fingers coming to my lips. Link looks concerned for a moment until I grin, still covering my mouth. “That’s _ so _ good. Oh my goddesses.”

He just gives a laugh before taking another sip of his own as we sit back with a comfortable space between us. I wiggle a bit to get comfy against a certain root before settling against the smoothed bark once more. A comfortable silence lingers between us, not forced or awkward, not void but instead filled with an air of relaxation. It lasts that way as the sky darkens further, turning from a pale yellow to a soft orange, then fading to what will eventually be a deep blue. Without feeling a rush or need to fill the silence I softly speak.

“You know… I feel like we hardly know anything about each other.”

Link turns to glance at me with those mesmerizing bright eyes, tilting his head. I know it may be difficult for him to speak, if he can, so perhaps I’ve asked something unfair to him. Yet he seems receptive to it and uses a finger to write in the dirt like yesterday. _ Tell me about yourself. _

“Uh. What do you want to know?”

He shrugs, as calm as always without prying. I clear my throat and rattle my brain before starting the only place that seems logical. “Okay, um… Well, I’m a traveller. So far I’ve gone through Hebra and Tabantha, and then a bit of the Ridgelands. I went around to get to Gerudo rather than trying the Highlands, and I’ve come east. I just go wherever I want.”

Link gives a soft yet encouraging expression, writing, _ Why? _

I clear my throat again as part of a nervous habit—I’ve never been exceptional at speaking about myself, much less in the presence of others. “It, uh… It’ll sound embarrassing, but… Two years ago, I was kind of a wreck.

“I had a lot of anxiety, I was terrified of so many things. The hardest thing was leaving my house and I just...felt like I didn’t even have my own life under control. That’s around the time that the…the Calamity started getting worse. I told myself that if the hero, Hyrule’s Champion that my great-grandmother spoke of, defeated Calamity Ganon, then I would take ahold of my life no matter how terrifying or hard it was.”

I give a shrug, purposely keeping my gaze resting on the fire and not him. “So in a way, I guess… The hero is the reason I was able to take my life back. I figured that if he worked so hard risked his life to save the lives of everyone in Hyrule, then the least I could do is make the most of mine.”

Link is speechless, though that’s no surprise. One of my hands touches something smooth so I curl it into my palm, finding it to be the cork of the wine bottle that’s the same fallow brown as the aged label. “His courage gave me the will to keep going, and now...here I am.”

I rest back to the tree, feeling a bit self-conscious so I make a point of sipping some more of the rich, smooth wine. It probably sounds weird for me to talk about a total stranger like that, especially when I don’t even know his name—my great-grandma would just call him “The Champion” and the rest of them “The Champions.”

After a moment I feel a tap on my shoulder so I turn my head, hoping the low light can hide a bit of my flushed complexion. Link instead gives a small smile and signs _ Thank you_.

I’m about to ask him what he means before he mouths, _ for sharing. _

My shoulders release the tension they’ve been carrying and my grip on my wine glass loosens. “Thanks… I know it probably sounds a bit weird but it’s true. What about you?”

He seems to mull over it before I hear the lid of the pot begin to rattle. I hurriedly get up and grab the ladle, my hand moving to lift the lid before remembering it’s pure cast iron and likely as hot as the blackened bottom of the pot. Link luckily sees my hesitance and pushes himself to his feet, jogging into his house and coming back out with a towel and bowls with spoons.

He lifts the lid with the towel and I thank him, the wet blanket of steam rising and hitting us with a wave of heat. No sooner does the rich smell waft through the air, fragrant with herbs and spices. I catch Link swallow thickly, his cyan eyes locked on as I stir around the stew. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed between us as we rested and drank.

Link’s mouth is practically watering and with a teasing roll of my eyes I say, “_Yes_, it’s ready. Now lean back before you get drool in the pot.”

He gives a sheepish smile and steps back with the lid, setting it on the ground and grabbing the wooden bowls he’d brought out. Link hands me one and I give a hushed thanks before handing him the ladle. Eagerly he dishes out his own stew, though only half-full.

“Pah. I know you want more than that—don’t hold back!”

After I say that he gives another sheepish smile, his cheeks tinged a bit pink either from embarrassment or the heat being emitted from the pot. Either way he tops up his bowl and then hands the ladle to me. Before I pour in my own I notice the shape of the dish and what appears to be some flat surfaces or slices. “Did you carve these?”

Link nods and so I say, “They look really good. I’ve never been fantastic with carving, so this is really cool.”

He lights up at the compliment but still looks bashful, so I don’t say anything else to embarrass him for the time being. “I hope the stew is to your liking.”

I know elk is a very lean meat so I hope it cooked enough to tenderize, and subtly spy on Link to see his reaction. He blows his spoon to cool it before taking a bite, mindful not to burn himself. I watch as his eyes slowly widen and his pointed ears give another twitch that immediately make me grin.

“Like it?”

Link gives an enthusiastic nod, practically beaming as he sits down to try and immediately eat more. I laugh before blowing off my own meal, setting it between my legs on the ground so it has a chance to cool while I sip my wine. When I tilt the glass back and nothing comes, I realize it’s empty—unfortunate considering how it tastes fantastic and has made me feel pleasantly warm despite the chill in the air.

I hardly have to wait before Link grabs the bottle and leans to fill my glass again. “O-oh, are you sure? Thank you.”

While he’s at it he fills his own glass again and heartily takes back his bowl of stew, so I join him. We share our meal in peace, having a light conversation mostly consisting of me talking and him listening intently. Link swears he isn’t bored and prefers listening, so I do what I can.

I tell him stories of my travels, mostly of my most entertaining accidents. In Hebra I had a trail of mountain wolves follow me because I was leaving a trail of jerky due to a hole in my pack. When I’d made it to Gerudo, my weapons were too hot to even hold due to their metal hilts, so I had to buy a pair of oven mitts in Gerudo Town and wield my sword using them.

Link gets a hearty laugh and gets a second bowl of stew; his favourite story is when I got into a fistfight with a lone Bokoblin over some precious gems I’d mined when going through the Dueling Peaks. He was weaponless so we mostly kept kicking and slapping and yelling at each other, since my hands were too full to swipe for my dagger. So instead the Bokoblin whined and followed me to the stablehouse, where he was ultimately scared off by some other travellers by the firepit.

When I’ve finished my bowl and my third cup of wine I’m pleasantly tipsy and very talkative, and Link is openly laughing even more—his giggles are the most charming sound I’ve ever heard and I almost want to lean over to pinch his cheek when I’m so inebriated, but I resist the urge (however tempting it is).

Finally we settle down as night falls, barely able to see anything beyond the fire we’ve kept going under the cooking pot. Link has gradually gotten closer to me and has matched me with three glasses of wine, leaving our shoulders touching as we drowsily sit in the glow of the fire. Our laughter dies down into silence.

We’re quiet for a stretch of time until he leans forward, about to write in the dirt before he pauses, thinks, and then decides to write. I have to lean forward and squint to see what it reads.

_ Is it bad that I don’t speak? _

I almost have to read it twice, my brows knitting as I sit up. “What—? Link, no, of course not. I’m sorry, did I make you think that?” I ask in concern, sobering up a bit at the question.

He shakes his head but gives a shrug. I lightly press, “You can tell me. I would never judge you, I promise.”

That seems to be enough to spur him into writing more. I can imagine that even expressing his concerns is difficult enough, since he seems to prefer keeping things to himself so often.

_ Aren’t you annoyed? _

Before I know it I gingerly place a hand on his shoulder. “No, never. I really like talking to you. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to speak.”

He gives a small nod, head dropping a bit, so I continue. “It’s perfectly fine that you use sign language—I may not be able to read it, but I’d never make you do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

That seems to make Link feel a bit better and so he leans back and to my own surprise, rests his head on my shoulder. I’m frozen a moment before attributing it to the wine. “If anything, I should be asking if _ you’re _ annoyed since I do nothing but talk. Especially after drinking.”

That gets a small snicker from him but he shakes his head.

We sit and relax that way as the night grows black, his head to my shoulder as we each drowsily watch the dying flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link is keeping some secrets, it seems...


	5. Glaucous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the night gets colder than you bargained for.

I don’t particularly remember walking back to my encampment. I remember it being so dark I could hardly even see my hand in front of my face. I’d miraculously made it back and felt along the rock wall and underneath the crevasse, where my wool roll still lay crumpled up from this morning.

However the rude awakening I’ve received is the only thing I can feel clearly. A sharp cold blooms from my side resting on the ground and moves upward, then across my back. I give a groan and feel a small spike of a headache from drinking earlier, but raise my head to see what could possibly be on me—my hand pats my thigh and comes back feeling wet and freezing.

Finally the sleep deafness fades and the pitch world comes back into focus, as though I removed my hands from my ears. Rain hits the ground relentlessly like a storm of arrows, sounding almost like gunfire. My (H/C) hair is plastered to my neck and it begins to hit me how frigid my body is—the warmth of the plum wine has made me slow to respond but I push myself up and onto my knees. The storm continues to hammer down and then I can hear the trickling like a small waterfall. Without any aid of light my hand pats the ground, where I can feel the downpour of the storm draining directly into my shelter. I curse and my heart leaps up to my throat.

“Shit, _ shit— _” I curse, my wool roll sopping wet and twice as heavy as usual. I’m already soaked to the bone but scrabble along the muddy ground to try and grab my belongings. My hands are already trembling from the frigid temperatures as I shoulder my pack, and do my best to feel around and roll up my wool sleeping bag. It’s difficult enough without being able to see anything around me, but combined with my trembling hands it becomes nearly impossible.

I clip it to the bottom of my bag and curse more as I get up, sloshing through the water and out of my small overhang. If any part of me wasn’t drenched before it is now as the rain pounds the ground and my body. The first priority for now is to try and find a safer, drier place for the night, and then immediately go through my pack to try and salvage rations and the buckskin I’ve hunted. I can’t let it rot before I can tan and treat it.

I’m still grumbling to myself as I step through the muddied path, arms out to make sure I don’t hit anything and my knees raising high with each step to be sure I don’t trip. I must look like an idiot. _ Hylia’s sake, I knew autumn’s rainy season was coming—but not this soon! How in the hell am I supposed to save all my stuff? _

Luckily the moon is just bright enough to part through some thinner spots of the storm clouds, casting a pathetically dim light but still barely enough for me to see some silhouettes. My (E/C) eyes are squinted and my headache pounds more. The rain is sharp and feels like needles piercing through my hair and clothes. I trek along the path outlining Midla Woods until I’m able to find another tall conifer that may be just enough to shield from the rain.

I head right under it, and the branches deflect a good amount of the freezing rain but I’m still left shivering next to the damp and muddy trunk. Before I start to let my anxiety take control I lower my pack to the ground with a squelch and start feeling through. _ The elk in butcher’s paper is dry, thank the goddesses. My waterskin is almost solid. My wool roll is just uselessly heavy for now, and everything else is soaked. Hairbrush, toothbrush, my two extra changes of clothes… Goddammit. _

I give an exasperated groan of frustration before leaning back to the tree again. The rain is deafening and so I have no qualms about talking aloud to myself. “W-what to do, what to do… O-okay. I can l-last until morning. It’s f-fine. I’ll lay everything out t-t-to dry, and...and…”

With a thick swallow I try to collect my thoughts. I’ll just have to stay here for a few hours, but I have no way of telling the time as I am now. If I had to guess, maybe four hours until dawn? Five?

I can do that. I can tough this out. I can’t get hypothermia, not now—not in the middle of some freak storm when I’ve got to keep my head on straight. My inhales and exhales stutter and I try walking on the spot to keep my blood flowing. Small cracks can be heard from the creases in my trousers where frost has already begun to creep up. That sends another spike of fear into me but I take a shuddering breath and shove it back.

_ Not now. You can’t panic now. You’ll be fine. _

Worse comes to worst, I may get a cold. That’s fine. I’ve lived through worse, I tell myself.

_ Until it becomes worse. What if my immune system shuts down? My lungs fill themselves with fluid and my own sickness drowns me from the inside ou— _

“Everything’s fine,” I say to try and dispel the worries. Now isn’t the time for jumping to wild conclusions.

I keep walking on the spot in the slushy and frosty mud, and realize that now that the dull ache I felt in my hands has become unbearable. My fists are clenched and I have to make a conscious effort to loosen them, but my fingers feel like stone and almost like a separate entity from myself, as though I were trying to tell a branch to unfurl. Even my knowledge of survival that I’ve accumulated doesn’t guarantee making it through the harshness of nature without consequence. I crack my hand over my thigh, the pain getting the blood flowing momentarily before the sensation sluggishly makes its way up my arms.

The headache I felt before from the wine has now been completely replaced by the feeling of a piercing cold creeping from my ears to my temples, making it hard to even think—the pain is so much and in so many places at once. This isn’t simply ‘being cold’ anymore. This is getting dire.

But I can’t fall prey to fear.

_ Just a few hours. I’ll be fine. I can make it. I’ve been through Hebra in a blizzard. I can do this. _

  
  
  
  


I don’t know how long passes. It’s impossible to make any judgement of time when the black of night covers Hyrule like a blanket. All I know is that the numbness of the cold has turned to pain and I have to resist the urge to scratch every inch of my body. The blistering cold feels like millions of insects pressing their thin, needle-like legs under my skin.

The numbness from cold turns to pain. When it turns to numbness for a second time…

_ But I can outlast that, right? It can’t be long until the morning. It could’ve been three hours by now. _

_ Or maybe ten minutes. _

I groan to myself, swearing a bit more as I rub my hands along my arms, but it’s no use. I can hardly feel a thing, and the more time passes, the more convinced I become that I won’t be able to stand this until dawn.

_ What can I do? What _ ** _is _ ** _ there to do? _

There’s only one option that comes to my foggy mind, but I’m not a fan of it, especially after all that he’s done for me thus far. I run a stiff hand down my face, feeling as though rigor mortis has set in before I’m even dead. I’m as rigid as a corpse and likely the same shade of glaucous blue.

It takes a few minutes still to abandon my pride and independence. _ If you weren’t lucky enough to know Link, you’d be good as dead. _Of course only negative thoughts are clear in my muddled mind. After another series of grumbles I grab my pack to sling over my shoulder.

_ Alright. Just have to tough it out a bit and hope that he’s kind enough to let me in. _

I run out from the cover of the pine tree, my free hand shielding my eyes from the burning cold rain that stabs through my clothing. I sprint the best I can, though it’s more like an uncoordinated jog when I can see so little and need to be cautious. Even if I fell and broke something I doubt I’d feel it, but that’s not the point right now.

The only hints I’m given are the vague shapes of the horizon and feeling the ground slope under my feet. I enter the village on the slick main road, turning to make a right and stretching my arms to follow along the side of the general store. The stone is just as frigid and wet as my body as I step alongside the wall, then make a turn and _ hopefully _ make it onto the bridge and not into the stream below.

When I can hear the hollow thump of wood under my feet I breathe a sigh of relief, heading forward though my body hardly seems to listen anymore—I stumble and nearly fall, unable to feel my limbs. They’re simultaneously stiff as boards and as wobbly as gelatin, and prove to be quite a challenge for my already-tremoring body.

My teeth chatter so hard my jaw feels cramped and I continue to step forward until I can feel one of the wooden support beams outside of Link’s door. The lattice above me does little to shield from the downpour, and while the thought of warmth and rest sound more appealing than even seeing the legendary Sacred Realm, once again my pride rears its ugly head.

_ Are you really going to do this? Admit that you can’t even take care of yourself? _

The muscles in my body spasm and make it hard for me to even stand, so I lean against the stone wall.

_ For once in your damned life, just swallow your stupid stubbornness! If you don’t, you’ll _ ** _die_**_. _

Yet before my hand can even reach out to knock, the brass knob turns and the door swings open without even a creak of the hinges. For a moment my sluggish mind thinks it’s a hallucination and it takes me a second to glance up.

Link stands there, his jacket half-on while he wears only pajama bottoms and no shirt. When he catches sight of me, his eyes widen more than I’ve ever seen them, his mouth pressed into a grim line as he looks me over in less than a second.

My body is wrought with tremors, and the dim light from his fireplace is enough for him to see my grayish, pale skin, my lips and fingers a glaucous shade of blue. My (H/C) hair is plastered and partially frozen to my neck, and the frost on my clothes has them feeling like they’ve been starched too heavily.

“L-L-Link?” I manage out, my throat feeling dry.

He instantly steps aside and one of his hands holds my arm to guide me into the warmth of his house. I’m still shaking relentlessly, my limbs stiff and I feel as though I’m having an out-of-body experience.

I lean down and like any polite house guest, untie my leather boots so I don’t track mud in. Link hardly seems concerned with that and urges me forward, but only gives another coaxing pull after I’ve stepped out of my boots.

“S-s-sorry,” I croak, arms folded to myself like a clay figure, and just as reluctant to move. He shakes his head and glances around, obviously in a rush, but I feel guilty for making him worry—I’ll be just fine now that I’m out of the storm, I’m sure. Link motions to my clothes and I stare at him blankly, only realizing after a few moments of him signing that he’s trying to communicate.

“S-sorry, w-w-what?”

He gently tugs on the collar of my tunic before untying it. “O-oh. G-got it.”

Link turns to let me preserve my modesty as my trembling hands move to undo my belt with great difficulty. _ Now’s not the time to get embarrassed. It’s survival. Plain and simple. _ It’s like I’m trying to get someone else to move their hands, to undo the belt and pull the tunic off, the trousers down, to step out of the second layer of heat-preserving leggings, and pull the shirt over my head.

I lastly pull off my socks by resting a hand to his table for balance, letting them fall to the rest of the pile with a wet _ schlop. _

When all is said and done, I’m left in my equally-wet underclothes consisting of a black breastband and tight cotton undershorts of the same colour.

Link comes back before I’d realized he’d left, holding a towel and quickly wrapping it around my shoulders. I try to say a thank you but only the chattering of my teeth can be heard. He guides me by the shoulders to the fireplace, helping my rigid body lower onto the floor so I can sit in front of it. I stare into the bright flames, watching how the orange sparks contrast against my toes that have turned a bluish hue.

Link grabs more logs from next to the fireplace and throws them in, mindful of not burning himself, before brushing off his hands and coming back to me. Everything feels like it’s going too fast, or like I’m in a dream. Perhaps this is a dream. And I’m totally safe, snuggled up in my wool roll back in Midla Woods.

He dries my shoulders as I stare ahead into the flames, throwing another towel over my head to dry my hair. Some clumps of frost fall out and drip more icy water down my chest. Link takes one of my hands in his—they feel so warm that they could burn me—and raises my arm to towel it off before moving to the other one. I remain mostly fixated by the fire, every movement feeling like just too much work.

I don’t recall ever feeling so lethargic before, and sleeping has never seemed like such a satisfying option. My head bobs down a bit as my blinks slow, but Link gives my shoulder a small shake and I sit up again. He comes around to sit next to me, shaking his head.

“B-but I’m so t-tired.”

He shakes his head again, a firmer expression on his face.

Too sleepy to even argue, I sluggishly rest my gaze on the fire again. I can feel the pain returning, fuzzy and not as strong, making its way up my feet and through my fingers. This time when I loosen my fist, my hand feels like _ mine _ again, not a stranger’s. The more I flex my fingers, the smoother the motions become.

Once again he returns (when did he leave?) and gently pulls the towel off of me and out from where I sat on it. I’m about to groan in protest both from the sudden temperature change and him seeing me in nothing but my undergarments, but he wraps another, dry towel around me.

The other one is heavy with cold water and he throws it into my pile of clothes that sit in the middle of his floor.

The heat of the fire brings feeling back to my face slowly, my nose first and then my lips. I shakily push myself closer to the fireplace. Link attempts another round of drying my hair and making sure no cold water remains on my skin (except where it trails down my back from my head).

This time I see him get up and watch him step up the stairs to the second level where I remember his bed being. He tears off the sheet and bundles it in his arms before coming back down the steps two at a time.

I’ve gained enough motor control and thought to unravel the second towel from me as he comes over to pull the thick blanket around me. It’s wrapped in two layers around my still-shivering body. _ It smells like pine and something else that I can’t put my finger on… But it relaxes me. _

Before I even know it my eyes must’ve slid shut again, because Link is gingerly shaking my shoulder and shakes his head again.

“M’sorry,” I drawl, my lips still thick with the cold.

He gets up yet again, but returns with a pad of paper and a pen before sitting next to me. I glance over as he begins to hurriedly write, making it look more like cucco-scratch when he isn't taking his time.

His brows knit together before he holds the paper for me to see.

_ How long were you out there? _

“S-since it began. Woke u-up to the rain. In my c-cave.” That only earns a grimace from him, who then continues writing.

_ Are you feeling okay now? _

I give a nod and try for a weak smile. “A lot b-better, thank you. Sorry to b-bother you so late.”

Link shakes his head and writes again before angling the pad my way. _ I was going out to look for you. _

“R-really? Why?”

_ Because I didn’t know if you were safe from the rain. _

I give a shaky chuckle, pulling the blanket (that’s still warm from his body heat) tighter around me. “W-well, your intuition was r-right.”

That doesn’t seem to make him feel any better and he looks me over again before scribbling in his messy cursive.

_ Are you still cold? _

“A bit. But a l-lot better.” This time I manage a real smile. That doesn’t seem to be the answer Link was looking for.

_ You shouldn’t be by now. _

I give a small scoff and say, “I’m s-sure I’ll be fine. Just a few more m-minutes.”

Link purses his lips, evidently mulling something over before he sets his pen and paper aside. He sidles towards me, shedding his jacket and tossing it aside before taking the corner of my blanket. With a gentle tug he unravels it and then scoots closer, the side of his body pressed to mine before he folds the sheets back around us both.

I barely catch him mouthing, _ This okay? _

I give another nod and say, “A-as long as I don’t make you cold.”

Link shakes his head, his cowlicked blond hair tucked behind his ears but still unruly and falling over his forehead.

“Body heat is a g-good idea.” After all, it’s a part of survival, I tell myself. Strictly in a professional sense. Nothing more.

Yet I find myself wanting to fall against him more, to feel the warmth of his skin regardless of my own near-nakedness. In my exhaustion I do collapse a bit into his side, my head resting against his collar. Link pauses and for a moment my sluggish memory warns, _ You crossed a line. You’ve made it weird. _

Until I feel him uncertainly wrap one of his arms around my back. His hand that rests on my arm feels calloused yet firm. Despite his boyish appearance he has a decent build and I can feel the firm muscle under his smooth skin, as well as the raised bumps of scars against his sides or arms. _ Why does he have so many? _

When I practically sink into his touch, Link relaxes and continues to hold me close. I can feel the warmth returning much quicker this time, and I let my breath steady.

Knowing that I won’t be awake for much longer I whisper, “Thank you.”

I don’t remember anything past that.


	6. Emerald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you have a unique type of 'morning after.'

When I wake up, I feel groggy and slightly stiff, but pleasantly warm. I give a small groan as I finally blink open my bleary eyes, my heart momentarily jumping to my throat when I don’t immediately recognize my surroundings. A scaffolded roof is above me with simple chandelier lights, and I push myself up.

The world comes into focus as the sleepiness fades, and what begins as a feeling of déjà vu becomes familiarity as I peer around. The events of the previous night hit me suddenly like a Lynel.

_ Right. Last night Link helped me. I don’t know what would’ve happened if he didn’t. _

I try to ignore the other prominent memories my mind has hung onto, such as the warmth of his body and the smoothness of his skin save for the scars I felt compelled to trace—

_ Enough. Stop that—wait, where’s Link? _

My hand brushes back my matted (H/C) hair as I search, but don’t see him anywhere. I sit on the wooden floor, still swaddled in the bedsheets he’d brought down the night before. I’m pleasantly toasty but the space next to me is empty.

When I feel the brisk morning air hit my mostly-bare body, the realization of _ I’m practically naked _ hits me again and I instinctively cover my chest before once again remembering that Link isn’t here. I pull the bedsheets up and around me, soft and insulating as my bare feet pad along the chilly floor, glancing around.

“Link?” I call quietly, just in case, but I’m met with no answer (surprise, surprise).

I take the opportunity to explore in the mildest sense, noting the interior of his cottage with more detail. There’s a small pile of dishes stacked in his sink, and some knickknacks are spread across various counters, but not enough to be considered clutter. His cupboards have glass windows in which I can see his carved wooden bowls or plates, most of which sit unevenly atop each other. As I walk over to the table I feel the woven carpet under my toes, which is much more comfortable than the hardwood. Matching woven placemats sit under some dishes set out on his table, along with a vase of flowers—how cute of him.

I step around it until something catches my eye. Slung over the back of one of the chairs is a set of clothes, and on the table, a note.

My hand reaches out to take the note and read it over.

_ Good morning, (Y/N). _

_ I hope you feel better this morning. If you’re reading this it’s because I’m not back yet but I will be soon. Your clothes were wet so I hung them to dry outside along with the stuff in your pack so nothing gets ruined. Sorry for intruding. _

_ You can borrow this change of clothes until yours are dry. _

_ Link _

I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth when I read the note—it’s so _ him_. To be thoughtful and help out however he can, yet still apologize for crossing a boundary that I’m not concerned with. His writing isn’t as messy this time around since he took his time.

I delicately set the note back down before gawking at the clothes he’s laid out, letting the blankets around me drop as I examine them. There’s a long-sleeved shirt in a shade of pale teal, along with a standard maroon tunic to go over it. The hems are bordered with a pattern of alternating triangles, and lastly there’s a belt attached to the thick, insulated fabric of the teal midpiece so I can adjust it to the size of my waist (not that Link is that much larger than me).

There’s a pair of tan trousers and even a set of brown leather boots to go with it. I can easily tell this is a standard travelling tunic, just without the chainmail, straps for pouches, and the leather chestguard. Enough to keep me warm and comfy.

I waste no time slipping on the trousers and the long-sleeved shirt, then pull the tunic over my head. Right about then I hear the door open with a creak, so I pop my head through the neck of the tunic. It reaches halfway down my thighs, since I’m hardly smaller than Link. I see him step inside, pushing the door open with his back.

He gives a kind smile and I’m sure he’d follow it up with a wave if his arms weren’t holding a carton of eggs and a block of goat’s cheese wrapped in cloth, along with some sprigs of emerald-green herbs.

“Morning,” I greet with my own smile, smoothing out the front before taking the belt and midpiece to buckle around my waist. “Thank you for the clothes—and for hanging up mine. That was really thoughtful of you.”

Link’s head ducks but it doesn’t hide the fact that the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink. Pride for my accomplishment makes warmth bloom in my chest.

“And… I obviously have to say thank you for last night.” He shakes his head before I even continue. “If you hadn’t helped, I don’t know...what would’ve happened.”

He gives a shrug, the attention making him sheepish like I saw during our dinner last night.

That gets a short laugh out of me and I roll my stiff shoulder. “Good thing we’re the same size, eh?”

Link gives a laugh at that and nods, noticing how well the tunic fits. He heads over to the counter to set down the food he’s brought, and pivots so he can motion to one of the chairs.

“Oh, are you sure? I can help,” I offer.

He shakes his head, unruly blond hair swaying, and again motions to the chair.

I chuckle under my breath as I sit at the table, stretching my back with the chair I’ve sat in. “Chivalry isn’t dead.”

Link gives a small giggle as he pulls a skillet out from a drawer, setting it on the top of his wood-burning stove. It’s already burning, which I hadn’t noticed in my sleepy state.

Last time Link made a meal I had my eyes closed, and I can say with certainty that watching him is something I can’t help but marvel at. He cracks four eggs at once (how?) without even batting an eye, and hums under his breath before using a fork to mix the yolks. When that’s done he moves on without a thought, as if this process were something he does in his sleep. I’m hypnotized by how he moves around, grabbing some peppers and truffles to dice up before throwing them into the pan as well, mixing them in with the eggs before flipping the omelet over in one smooth motion.

I get up only to come over and lean against the counter, and luckily Link seems too preoccupied with cooking breakfast to realize that I’m spectating. His hums are adorable, admittedly, and he smoothly rotates his wrist with the wooden flipper to make sure the delicate eggs don’t stick to the pan. _ He looks so happy right now. _

A smile slowly spreads across my face as he continues to tend to the omelet with such care that you would think it was his life’s masterpiece.

After he folds it in half, he uses a knife to smoothly shave off goat cheese in practiced yet professional motions. Link’s song finishes up right after he lifts the perfectly-browned omelet with the flipper to set on a plate.

He swivels on his heel with the plate, facing the table before his posture falls a bit when he sees the empty seat.

_ Did he really not notice me? _

It’s just too endearing to see how easily his body language communicates his feelings. I give a small giggle and lightly tap his shoulder, peeking over. “Sorry, I got really caught up watching you. I’ve never seen someone cook like that.”

That only sends him into another round of shrugs, looking away, bashfulness, you name it. I snicker before he kindly offers the plate to me, his bright eyes shy but still caring.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.”

Link gives a smile that says _ I hope it is _ before he turns back to make his own omelet. I sit at the table but don’t eat, wanting to wait for him. Food always tastes better when it’s shared, and I wouldn’t think of being rude to someone like Link.

When he doesn’t hear the scraping of my knife against my plate he turns, glancing to the picture-perfect omelet and then to me. Even the sprig of emerald herbs sprinkled on top are undisturbed. He steps over and signs while mouthing, _ Do you not like it? _

I shake my head, waving my hands like I could dispel the very notion. “No, not at all! I just didn’t want to start without you.”

That seems to assure Link and his shoulders relax, but he still motions to it and signs. _ Eat while it’s warm. _

I give him a smile before saying, “If you insist.”

My fork is carved by hand as well as the handle of the knife, and Link’s craftsmanship shines through. Is there anything he isn’t good at? He’s empathetic, humble, a talented cook, a traveller, and quite funny to boot.

When I bite into my omelet, it tastes no less amazing than the first meal he ever cooked for me. I raise a hand to lightly cover my mouth, only for the sake of being polite. “Oh my goddesses. That’s _ amazing_.”

I waste no time before I’m cutting off another piece, struggling to find a happy medium between savouring it and scarfing it down.

This seems to amuse Link as he folds his own omelet, letting it finish turning a golden brown. The whole time I’m eating in such a comfortable, domestic setting, there’s only one thought on my mind.

_ How will I ever repay this? _


	7. Thulian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you take a relaxing bath.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWLqdAJbu0A

“_I couldn't utter my love when it counted _

_ Ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now. _

_ I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted _

_ Ah, but I'm singing like a bird, 'bout it now. _

“_The bite on above _

_ But never would fall in _

_ Like a crane at the final breath that is drawn. _

_ Remember me, love when everyone _

_ Is a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn._”

I sing to my heart’s content when I know no one is around to interrupt me, carding my fingers through my wet hair as I bathe in the lukewarm waters of Lake Jarrah.

After Link’s acts of a saviour the week before, I gave him all the thanks I could before setting out once more. After deciding that I no longer could use Midla Woods as my camp during my temporary stay in Hateno Village, I instead headed northward to Ginner Woods. There I was able to find a sturdy, wide tree that I was able to mount a lean-to against. I paid extra attention to ensure that it was on higher ground than my previous spot.

Due to my clothes being so heavy, they’ve taken some days to dry out completely. As such I’ve left them with Link, where they hang to air out. The rest of my pack has come with me, but I’m still borrowing his tunic even a week later. _ I’ll be sure to wash it before I return it_, I tell myself as I continue to hum.

Other than the occasional visit to Link, I haven’t seen much of him since our dinner and the night I stayed over.

The water is mostly still in today’s lovely weather, so contrasted to my previous experience. It’s mildly cold but nothing unbearable, though I’m still sure to pay more attention to my body temperature rather than write it off.

Link’s borrowed tunic lays folded against a large stone by the shoreline, which is bordered by fjord-like walls that prevent anyone from sneaking up on me. The lake peters out and into a river the further west it flows, between the foothills’ crevasses rich with moss and trees. I continue on, singing to myself with only the mockingbirds to accompany me.

“_And I had no idea on what ground I was found in _

_ All that goodness is gone with you now. _

_ There when I met you my virtues uncounted _

_ All of my goodness is gone with you now. _

_ “Driving alone, following your form _

_ Hung like the pearl of some prey you had worn— _”

A loud splash interrupts me and I fall silent within a second, ducking down into the water so it covers my chest. My eyes scan the surroundings to see what caused the noise—it could be anything from wading children to a boar simply looking to cool off.

The splashing continues, and this time I’m able to attribute the sound’s source to downstream. Perhaps it piqued my curiosity, but against my better judgement I begin to swim westward, where the water rapidly shallows and runs between smoothed rock.

I push myself to my feet, water running down my legs and back in rivulets as I tentatively walk forward. The rocks are slippery between my toes and so I’m mindful not to slip, and wring out my (H/C) hair with my hands as I near the sound.

Creeping around a rock, I peek around the corner to see whatever the commotion could be—I’m not met with what I expected, whatever that was.

A horse canters around in the shallow waters, and if I knew better, I’d say it was playing. It gallops around the water haphazardly, sending sprays of water up and soaking its own rich, smooth mahogany coat. It neighs and throws back its snow-white mane, jumping a bit before continuing to make its noisy splashes.

_ Wait… That’s definitely a familiar draft horse. _

In a mere moment I let out a soft gasp, recognizing the horse as Epona, Link’s companion. I stay where I am, the water only up to my thighs as I spy. She seems happy and carefree despite being wet, her ivory feathering hanging loosely by her hooves and her mane just as tangled.

My eyes scour the shoreline to watch for Link, but I see hide nor hair of him. Just to be sure I wait a few minutes yet, letting about ten pass, but there’s still nothing. This seems to bore Epona, who begins to wander out of the water.

“W—whoa, Epona!” I call at a reasonable volume, hopefully not enough to startle her. I jog through the river and am sure to approach her from the side, not behind.

“Hey, girl,” I singsong in a friendly voice, which is enough to get her to stop and peer at me. A gentle hand of mine reaches out to pet along her nose, the other moving to her well-muscled shoulder. Just as I thought the first day I met her, she’s extremely well-behaved and has a patient temperament. “We can't have you wandering away. I should probably take you back after I'm dressed.”

Epona leans down and begins to step around to turn, her body guiding me back into the water. I hardly mind being naked in front of an animal, and it seems no one is around even now—perhaps Link lets her roam?

I laugh as Epona herds me back to the water, where she then stands patiently. “You’re such a gentle girl,” I coo, despite not normally being a fan of horses.

They’re tall and more often than not, stink. The ripe smell is what prevents me from spending nights at the stablehouses. Not only that, but they scare too easily for an animal that has the power to trample or kick me fatally.

Epona feels different though, not as wild, and I cup some water in my hands to pour down her mane so I can untangle it. I’m sure not to pull as I card through the locks of her snow-white mane, until I’ve eventually gotten the worst of the knots out. I continue to sing under my breath as I pet her back, cupping more water to wash some dirt from her sides and shoo away some persistent flies.

“_I fled to the city with so much discounted _

_ Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now. _

_ Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted _

_ Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now. _

_“I was highest by your warmth _

_ And I was transformed… _”

I begin to braid her mane if only to prevent it from knotting again too quickly, but stay away from her tail. Being behind a horse isn’t something I’m comfortable with.

Another splash sounds from behind me and interrupts my thoughts, prompting me to instantly step forward and press my body to Epona’s side to cover myself.

I peer over my shoulder to see what made the sound, only to be met with…

_ Link. _

A sharp inhale is all that prevents me from letting out a string of curse words, and I become all too aware of the fact that my backside is completely bare.

He stands there, more motionless than the statues of Hylia left in Castle Town. His normally beaming, cyan eyes are wide with shock and contrast his _ horribly _ flushed face. He’s pink from his neck upwards, appearing as though I walked in on him rather than the other way around. In his arms he holds Epona’s saddle, which he was evidently cleaning further upshore than I could see.

Above it all, Link’s ears are glowing the purest shade of thulian that I’ve ever seen.

Epona gallops from me and to Link, who she’s more familiar with considering that he’s her master. He tears his eyes from me and without Epona even having to pause, Link sets her saddle on her back and hops on, not bothering with any of the straps or fasteners.

My arms hug myself and I crouch down into the shallow water with nothing else suitable to cover me, as Link gives a “_Hyah! _” and swiftly makes his exit upstream, leaving me with a growing sense of mortification as everything dawns on me.

_ Oh. My goddesses. Link just saw me when I was _ ** _naked_ ** _ . _

My breath picks up but not enough to warrant anxiety, more a sense of dread. _ Holy shit, I can’t believe how stupid I was. Of _ ** _course _ ** _ he wouldn’t let Epona roam freely. Why did I even think that? Why did I even walk out?! _

I run my pruned hands down my face with an elongated groan, wanting nothing more than to erase the last sixty seconds from history.

  
  
  
  


Even after I’ve gotten dressed, I’m not feeling any more comfortable with the situation. The absolute worst part is that it can’t be ignored—I have to _ go back and return the clothes he let me borrow. _Not to mention picking up my own that he so graciously hung to dry.

I’ve communicated exclusively in groans the whole way back to my camp, grumbling to myself about being so unbelievably stupid and something that’s much worse.

_ What if I’ve ruined our relationship? _

That thought alone gives me more nervousness than when Link initially saw me completely bare (at least from the back). The last thing I’d wish is to sour such a great budding friendship, especially after all we’ve done for each other over the past week and a half. I purposely ignore the other thoughts in my head questioning, _ Would ‘just a friend’ hold you nearly naked in the night? _

For strictly survival, yes.

_ Would a ‘friend’ make you breakfast and care for you despite knowing you then for only three days? _

That’s just the type of person Link is.

_ And what about the clothes, hmm? He doesn’t seem hard-pressed to get them back. Why? _

I growl to myself and shake my head like the pestering thoughts would fall out of my ears. With another incomprehensible complaint I throw my pack onto the ground by my lean-to, punching it for good measure before flopping down to rest my head on it like a shitty pillow. Now that I’ve successfully made myself anxious _ and _ moody, I cross my arms over my chest and settle down on my wool roll.

_ Whatever. You know what makes everything better? Naps. _

_ And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. _

_ I can make things right after. _

  
  
  
  


_ Thulian looks good on him. _


	8. Amaranthine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you hear something beautiful.

When napping in the woods, it does some good to be aware of your surroundings. Even a slight sound could be a trigger for you to realize something is off. It could be the small snap of a twig signalling a bear wandering nearby, or a wandering deer coming to graze on thistles and rich amaranth blossoms.

Luckily, threats are few and far between when I’m camped so close to a village, so I don’t bother to stir and keep my eyes shut. I straddle the line of consciousness, urging myself to fall asleep again.

In the distance I hear the dull thumps of a horse’s hooves, faintly, but still enough to make my ears prick. With a wiggle against my wool roll in an attempt to get comfier, my body relaxes again. The thundering of hooves gets louder and my mind can’t help but map the road they’re taking, unable to focus on sleep when the sound calls so much attention to itself.

My arms stay crossed over my chest as I lay with my back facing the road, still a fair ways into the forest for cover. My great-grandmother used to say that hearing hooves meant the royals were coming, and the villagers would have to go out and bow as the family made their way through the town. She said she saw the princess once.

My roaming thoughts are snapping back to the present when I hear the thundering getting louder and louder, and I swear I can feel the vibrations through the ground. Suddenly afraid that I’m about to be run over, I hurriedly sit up and glance over my shoulder, but relax when I recognize the horse and rider.

And then immediately tense back up again.

Link rides Epona, bringing her to a halt some feet away with a small whinny. He locks eyes with me for no longer than a moment before breaking gazes, giving a timid wave as he turns to dismount from his trusty draft horse.

“O-oh. Link. Hey.” I clear my throat, wishing I sounded more nonchalant than I feel. I push myself to my feet, my knees giving a soothing crack followed by my back when I roll my shoulders.

He once again gives a brief glimpse and small wave, looking aside the first opportunity he gets.

_ I told myself I’d apologize for being a ditz when I woke up from my nap… And I guess this counts as being awake. This is as good a time as any, I suppose. _ I try not to let my nerves make my feet feel as heavy as lead weights or for my face to turn the shade of the amaranthine flowers around us. “Hey, uh...about earlier, I wanted to say—”

Link is still very interested in the ground, but holds out a letter with both of his hands.

“—oh. Is this, um, a letter?” I query stupidly, knowing full well what it is. He gives a nod anyways, hands folded in front of him as he stands, head still down by a fraction.

There’s a dollop of wax to seal it (but no stamp) and I use my thumbnail to easily pop it open before unfolding the parchment. Like before, I’m met with Link’s familiar, slightly-messy handwriting.

_ (Y/N), _

_ I wanted to apologize for earlier today. I am honest when I say that it wasn’t my intention to peek or see you in a state of undress. But thank you for washing Epona for me. _

_ If you feel uncomfortable being friends, or you’re upset, I understand. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated after I saw you in the river. _

_ P.S. I’m really sorry. _

_ Link _

When I finish reading, I have to stop my face from flushing anyways—his letter is so genuine. At the same time, I’m taken aback.

“Wait, Link—you don’t think I’m _ mad _ at you, do you?” I ask, mild concern worming its way into my words. He looks up and then down again, giving a small shrug as the tips of his ears begin to turn a cute shade of pink.

Before I can open my mouth to say that I’m not mad at all and it was my own naivety, I hear a quiet,

“I’m sorry.”

That stops me in my tracks and I’m almost unsure if I heard anything at all. When I try to catch a sneaky glimpse of him, I’m instead stopped by his intense blue eyes. This time with utter certainty, he takes an inhale before repeating, “I’m sorry.”

I almost forget about the situation entire at hand. His voice is soft and as gentle as his demeanor. It’s boyish but still carries an edge of maturity to it, and I find myself momentarily speechless before being able to babble out a response.

“N-no, you don’t have to apologize—no, it’s okay—it was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” The awkward air between us dissipates almost as swiftly as it first formed, and I take another step forward.

Link stands straight, as if at attention, still pink in the face and not sure whether to relax or not.

“I promise, it’s just fine. Besides, you did the gentlemanly thing and gave some privacy.” I clear my throat again and with my insistence, Link’s shoulders begin to drop. “I promise I’m not mad or anything—I just got a bit scared for a second, but that was it.”

Link’s posture becomes more casual when he realizes he isn’t walking on eggshells. “A-actually, uh… I was about to come to your place, and, um...apologize. I shouldn’t have been so naive and I probably made you feel super awkward.”

He gives a small shrug, bashfully looking away. “And what’s with the formalities? _ A state of undress_,” I lightly tease, getting him to crack a grin complete with his dimples.

Even if I wanted to, I can’t resist stepping forward and giving him a big hug. He’s shocked for a moment before reciprocating, his hands resting on the middle of my back. It’s adorable to see how he relaxes so easily when he knows everything’s okay.

“So no worries, okay? And...I’m really sorry if I made you think you had to speak.”

Link gives another squeeze before parting, shaking his head before softly saying, “It’s okay.”

Like music, I hang onto every word he says, almost intoxicated by how sweet yet smooth it is—like honey, if that makes sense.

After another moment of thought he continues, “I feel comfortable around you...so it’s okay.”

I swoop in for another quick hug, almost overwhelmed by how charming this young man is. He gives a small laugh and returns it before I step away.

“That makes me really happy. But don’t force yourself, okay?”

He gives another small nod and a subtle yet genuine smile. I wonder how many people haven’t given the time to try and understand him and the ways he expresses itself.

When we’ve both returned to as great of a state as before, Link holds up a finger for me to wait and surprisingly, pulls out _ another _ letter to offer. That earns a confused look from me, but I take it anyways, still smiling.

_ (Y/N), _

_ If you’re reading this it’s because everything turned out okay and I’m really happy. _

_ I wasn’t sure how else to bring this up and I’m sorry if I sound too forward, especially after today, but I’ve been planning on buying a guest bed for the east alcove. I never had a reason until now so I kept putting it off. _

_ If you wanted to stay while you get back on your feet, I wouldn’t mind. It’d be safer than the cold nights outside. _

_ I promise it’s not because I think you can’t take care of yourself, I know you travel a lot and you’re capable. And I know you’re not a charity case either. _

_ I hope this doesn’t sound weird, and I hope you’ll think about it. _

_ Link _

This note almost manages to stun me more than hearing his voice, and my (E/C) eyes are as large as a Keese’s before squinting to scour the letter again.

_ He’s really offering what I think he’s offering. _

“R-really?” I don’t mean to sound as appalled as I actually am. Link nods, his flyaway blond hairs swaying in the breeze. “I mean, u-uh, sure!”

Link positively glows when I say so. I tuck the letter into my pocket before following up with, “But on one condition.”

His shoulders promptly drop.

“I pay some sort of rent. I won’t stay for free.” I cross my arms as I make my bargain, absolutely set on not taking advantage of his kindness. He really does have a heart of gold, and I wouldn’t want to squish it. I may have lost my wallet a few weeks ago, but I’ve made a meager living from selling pelts and extra cuts of meat.

Link considers this before mouthing and signing, _ How much? _

I tap my chin, shifting my weight to a hip as I think about it. “Hmmm… I don’t know, but it’s gotta be something fair. What do you think?”

His hand comes up to rest his chin, brows furrowed as he thinks. It’s quite the inquisitive position. After a moment of crunching numbers, I assume, he holds up his hands. One hand has only his index finger raised, and his other is splayed open. One and five.

“Fifteen rupees?” I check, to which he nods. It’s cheaper than an inn, but not enough to exploit his generosity. It seems like a decent offer to me.

With a smirk I hold out my hand, and he mocks spitting in his own before taking mine and giving a shake.

I snicker. “You’re so gross. But it’s a deal.”


	9. Slate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Hylian IKEAs exist.

“So...this notch goes here.”

“What do you _ mean_, no? It fits!”

“Fine. Then I’ll attach...this dovetail to the other.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll do the nails after. This’ll keep it in place.”

“Don’t hammer your thumb. _ Link_, be careful. Watch where you’re—_Link _!”

He promptly drops the hammer where he sits and cradles his hand to his chest, prompting me to crawl over. “Let me see?”

Link holds out his hand and I have to admit...his thumb looks entirely fine. I purse my lips, my expression sobering as I hold his bruised hand. “Well, I’ve got some bad news. We’ll have to cut it off.”

His eyes widen momentarily before it dawns on him that I’m joking, and he relaxes. I chuckle and give the back of his hand a pat before moving back to the bedframe. “You’ll be fine, just a bit of swelling.”

He shakes his hand out and moves back to the instruction booklet, flipping through it and making an unintentional scowl as he reads it over.

“So we’ve got the dovetails. How about I do the rest of the nails?” I offer, my way of saying _ I’ll be doing the rest of the nails. _

Link gives a defeated nod, giving me a good laugh as I line up where he started. The morning after our chat, he’d gone down and bought the parts for the guest bed, since it was cheaper that way rather than buying it partially assembled.

I’m mindful of my fingers as I nail the corners of the frames to keep it steady, working my way from corner to corner. While I’m no expert, I’ve luckily always been a handy person. I see Link dragging planks of wood from my peripherals, lining them up and counting. The sleeve of my tunic (his tunic) wipes the sweat from my forehead before I inquire, “What are they for?”

Link turns around the pamphlet for me to read, and I see that they’re meant to be fastened to the underside of the frame to support the mattress. “Huh. That would’ve been helpful before we put the headboard on.”

He gives a bit of a grimace and glances at it. I sigh and roll my eyes. “_Fine_, before _ I _did it.”

Link nods with a triumphant smile, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt to help me remove the dovetailed headboard and flip the frame over. I head to the far end opposite of him, and we give a nod before lifting it. I’m sure to use my legs though I keep a firm grip on the wood as we turn it onto its side, then let it rest. Adjusting our positions, we turn it the rest of the way and lightly set it down.

We continue pouring over the instructions, scratching our heads in confusion and wondering where the twelfth screw went. Link and I then spend about an hour searching for a needle in a haystack until Link finds it still in the muslin cloth bag they came in, giving a sheepish grin followed by my cussing.

When that’s resolved we work in tandem, myself gathering the nails as Link sets down the boards in the specific spots. I hum under my breath as he holds it by the middle to be sure it stays in place. I tuck the nails between my lips so my hands are free and I don’t have my own hammering accident. All I can manage out is a garbled “_fank oo_” as he steadies the board.

I raise the hammer to give some small taps before landing a decisive strike to embed it into the cedarwood. From there I use careful taps and repeat the process before moving to the other side of the board, which is still loose from the frame. Link maneuvers around me and vice versa as I step to the other side, nailing two more in each corner. We’re like clockwork as we continue with the remaining three supports, and I no longer have the unpleasant taste of iron in my mouth. I’m bent over until I finish the final nail, raising my head to check on Link.

Instead I bonk my forehead against his, which I didn’t realize was so close when I was concentrating. I promptly lean back and raise a hand to my head with a hiss, and Link mirrors me as we both sit back.

“I didn’t know you had such a hard head,” I tease, and he signs back with a wince.

_ Right back at you. _

I give him a glower that’s weakened by my smile, and we get up to begrudgingly flip the frame back over the _ correct _ way, then bus it over to the alcove under the second floor. No more notable mishaps occur when we lift the straw mattress into the frame, sliding it in until it sits evenly. The frame gives a quiet creak that makes Link narrow his blue eyes.

Catching it, I instantly call out, “What’s that face for? Don’t you trust my hammer skills?”

Link gives a sheepish face at being caught, before he raises a palm to give a _ so-so _ motion.

“Psh. Says the guy who hammered his thumb in the first twenty minutes.” He puffs up with a look of indignation, but I can see the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, could you do _ this _ on an unstable bed?”

I get up onto it and give a small bounce, jumping up a bit and keeping my momentum to lightly hop. Straw beds aren’t as bouncy as downy ones, but those are always too extravagantly priced for my taste when a regular bed does the same job. I keep jumping, snickering at Link’s expression.

“What? Never jumped on a bed before?”

He shakes his head.

“_What _?” My hopping comes to a halt and I sidestep. “Come on, you gotta get up here. It’s a vital part of any childhood!”

Link seems unsure but steps up with me, the straw giving small crackles under our feet. I give a small jump and he follows my example, squatting down before hopping up. I jump higher, giving a small laugh as I watch him—it’s like watching a newborn fawn learn how to walk. He’s a bit awkward but gets the gist of it, and soon hops up enough to match my height.

“Yeah! Like that! You really never did this?” I ask, squatting again to jump.

Link shakes his head, his blond hair puffing out each time he descends and then straightening again with each jump, much like my own. When he catches my mischievous expression he can’t hold back his own grin, and begins to laugh as we both jump on the bed like children. His adorable giggle reaches my ears as I try to outdo him, getting a bit higher.

He immediately shows his well-hidden competitive side and hops higher yet, goading me on. I can’t be outdone by some bed-jumping amateur! With a grunt I crouch lower and launch higher, followed by Link, who—

“Oh, Link _ wait—_!”

A large thud sounds as his head connects with the ceiling of the alcove, his body crumpling back down onto the mattress. His hands come up to cover his head and I stop jumping, lowering to check and attempt to hide my smile.

“A-are you okay?” I say, my chuckle breaking through. He peeks up, giving his own warbling smile as he begins to crack.

My hand raises to gingerly brush away his own and sure enough, I feel a bump on the crown of his head. “Oh nooo-ho-ho-ho!” I say, still beaming and unable to stop my uncontrollable laughter.

Link breaks into a full grin, fortunately not hurt at all, and titters alongside me before breaking into a full belly laugh like I’ve never heard. It only makes me crow louder, falling back against the bed a bit until I’m met with the sound of a snort.

He claps his hands over his mouth, cheeks going red as he tries and fails to hold back another snort, sending me into a full-on laugh attack. Thank the goddesses laughter is contagious, because it only keeps Link’s giggles going as we each struggle to regain our breath. After a few minutes of our horsing around, I wipe a tear from my eye and sniffle. “_Goddesses_, you really almost made me cry.”

Link gives a breathless chuckle, coughs, and then pushes himself back up before we recoup. I clear my throat and stand up, giving Link’s head a tender rub as I head to grab some of my dried clothes that have been folded over the back of one of the table’s chairs. With a good wash I can return Link’s tunic, so I head into the bathroom to change back into my duller tunic. Meanwhile, he grabs the sheets and blankets to make the bed. They feature triangle patterns much like everything else in Hateno, and are a bright yellow. He bought it because he claims it’s one of his favourite colours.

As he flicks the sheets out, I come out from the bathroom where I changed with his tunic draped over my arm. “Okay, I’m heading down to the river to wash this. I’ll come back and hang it after.”

Link gives a nod and a smile goodbye before I step out, tapping the door shut with my heel. I hum to myself as I head outside, picking a jaunty tune as I cross the wooden bridge and head into town. I’ve become a bit of a familiar face after spending a few weeks here, and give some greetings as I head on by—save for two middle-aged hags who always scowl at me from their place by the newsboard.

I stick my tongue at them before continuing down the hill by the general store, ignoring the old women’s gasps of indignation and cries about how the younger generations are all sorts of disrespectful.

I resume my little song as I head down to the north side of Firly Pond, flicking out Link’s maroon and teal tunic to gingerly lay on the surface and absorb water. With a flourish to finish my song, I kneel and roll up my sleeves to begin washing. I’m sure to scrub every grass stain I see (the knees are the worst), and some patches of dried mud from when I knelt while hunting. To my luck everything comes out, and I sit on the grassy edge of the pond as they soak.

My arms raise up to stretch out my spine before I straighten my legs and roll onto my back, legs in the air for a moment longer to stretch before flopping back down. The sky’s remarkably clear considering how shitty the weather was not that long ago. I’m still cranky about that. My gaze follows a flock of birds far above me, too far to even leave a shadow on the ground. I tilt my head back, my (E/C) eyes following their path until I can’t anymore.

Something curious catches my attention, and I roll onto my side to peer at the shape behind me. I’m amazed that I didn’t notice this statue here the entire time I was washing the clothes—the figure is hunched with stout wings sprouting from its back, its knees curled to its chest, chin resting and giving a forlorn, bored gaze that seems to look through me. What really catches my eye is the horns that poke up from its forehead. I haven’t seen or heard of a statue with horns before.

The stony surface is smoothed over, the details lost to time after what I assume to be centuries of rain and wear. It’s certainly curious—I wonder if the villagers know about it? _ They must_, I inwardly scoff, _ they live here after all. _ I push myself to sit up more and examine it. _ Maybe it’s their deity? _

I swiftly dismiss that idea when I see that there’s no tray for offerings in front of it, moss creeps up its sides, and it seems to be covered in a layer of bird droppings. Whatever deity this may be, even if it’s not mine, shouldn’t be so neglected. With a grunt and the protesting pop of my knees, I get up and cup my hands in the clear, chilled waters of the pond. As per usual, I begin humming a new song as I bring my cupped hands to the statue and pour it over its head.

It hardly does anything and I’ll stay here awhile to let Link’s tunic soak anyhow, so I bring over more water to pour down the horned statue’s head and wings. A few dozen cups of pond water later, it begins to look decent. The stone is dark slate gray, and it seems to me that the statue has taken on a more...unsettling look. Its brows have lowered and the corners of its mouths are more pinched, giving it a slight yet mocking sneer.

What kind of carver would give a statue _ this _ face? I turn and write it off as a trick of my imagination, or perhaps it was hidden under the layers of bird shit. Either way, it’s much cleaner now.

** _You…_ **

I stand as stiff as a board, wildly glancing around when I hear the deep, tenor voice. I can’t even pinpoint the direction it came from—it sounds like it came from within my head. My eyes narrow and I scowl before once again lowering to pull the tunic and trousers from the water.

** _Do not ignore me._ **

Again I whirl around, jumping a bit as I try to find the source of the voice. _ It has to be some of the village children playing a prank on me. Fine, fine. I can play along. _

“Hmmm… Who’s that?” I ask aloud, humoring them. I don’t hear any giggles, and I have to commend them for not blowing their cover.

** _It is me._ **

The voice is still highly unsettling, and I wonder how in the hell the kids are managing to make it. I try to ignore the part of my mind chirping, _ It’s not the children. _The more time passes, the less sure I am that this is a prank like I thought just moments ago.

** _Face me when you stand before me._ **

When the tenor voice speaks again, my eyes are drawn to the statue. _ No way. Statues can’t speak. Except to the past heroes in legends. _Yet its dark eyes bore into me.

Feeling more unsettled with every passing moment, I hurriedly reach down and grab Link’s clothes. I can wring them out back at his house. I fold them over my arm, giving sideways glances to the statue. _ Why do I feel like it’s waiting to pounce? _

I clear my throat and stand, giving my best attempt to walk calmly as if this horned statue doesn’t skeeve me out. I begin to march away until I feel something tug—not the back of my shirt, but...something _ inside _ me. My stomach feels like it drops and a wave of faintness crashes over me, getting me to stumble and land on my knees, accidentally dropping the newly cleaned clothes. Numbness travels from my face downwards like a bad headrush, and I blink away the dizziness before trying to push myself to my feet. I have a majorly bad feeling about that statue.

** _That is what you get for running. Come back when you are ready to make a deal._ **

I throw another glance back to those soulless slate eyes. My breathing becomes shallow and walking uphill feels like I’m trekking up a mountainside. I don’t particularly remember walking through the village or across the bridge, my legs carrying me back with memory alone. When I’m outside the door I’m huffing, a cold sweat on my brow as I try the knob—it’s unlocked, so I use my bodyweight to push it open and ungracefully stumble in.

Link turns to give a smile, still living off the high of our previous silliness, but it falls when he catches a glimpse of my pale face and clammy forehead, not to mention my ragged breaths. He hastily comes to my side, guiding me to the bed we finished building. He signs, _ What’s wrong? _

I try to speak but nothing comes out, so I swallow thickly before trying again. “The… The statue. By the pond, it… It sounds crazy, but...it gave me a _ really _ bad feeling.”

Link’s face uncharacteristically darkens when I mention the statue.

“What?”

He shakes his head and just like that his serious expression disappears, but mouths for me to stay here. _ Take a nap. Rest for a bit. _

I wish I could’ve argued or asked why before my vision begins to fade, and I see a blurry shape head to the door.


	10. Chartreuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Link's defenses break.

** _Oh? So you want it back?_ **

** _I see._ **

** _You know the deal._ **

** _Yes, now hand it over. The normal price._ **

** _…_ **

** _Pleasure trading with you as always._ **

** _She’ll have it by the time she wakes._ **

** _..._ **

** _Goodbye, Hero._ **

  
  
  
  


A groan leaves my lips before I even know what’s causing it. I figure it out soon enough when a sharp pain shoots between my brows, and I give another groan and roll onto my face as the headache pounds. Strangely enough, it doesn’t persist for long and fades in record time, unlike any other splitting headaches I’ve suffered through.

The soft straw of the mattress crackles underneath my weight as I roll onto my back once again, blinking my (E/C) eyes open to glance up at the roof of the alcove in Link’s house. There’s a small mark left where his head hit the ceiling during our horsing around this morning—

Wait, this morning? How much time has passed?

I feel strangely energized and push myself to sit up, brushing back some unruly locks of hair. Link sits at the dining table where he stares down at one of the placemats, apparently absorbed quite deeply in his thoughts. When I stir and set my feet on the hardwood floor, his gaze follows the noise to peer at me.

Rather than being their normal glowing azure, his eyes are blank and his expression is one of thinly-veiled exhaustion. Link pushes the chair out to come over, but I instead push myself to my feet and meet him halfway. His eyes scan over me, checking for any sign of injury.

“Hey—what happened?” I question in a hushed voice, as though such a strange occurrence is meant to be a secret.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again, then opens and shuts it. His brows furrow as I see him think, before he finally answers by signing, _ Nothing. I think you were just dehydrated. _

It’s not the answer I was expecting or hoping for, but I can’t bring myself to argue with him when Link appears so lethargic. “How long has it been?”

_ One day. _

My lips purse before I continue, “Thanks for helping, and I’m sorry for scaring you.”

He shakes his head, though his expression doesn’t waver. It’s impossible to guess what he’s feeling when he’s like this, like stone, and I’ve decided I don’t like it. Link raises a hand to tuck some blond hair behind his pointed ear, and my eyes are drawn to the movement. I barely catch sight of his fingers trembling before he lowers his hand and forms a loose fist to hide it.

“...Link? Are you okay?” I lightly press again, taking a step forward. He certainly looks paler than before and with my approach he takes a step back, prompting me to stop. “Link?”

His eyes finally break gazes with mine and I can see his fists trembling, causing worry to bubble in my chest. I walk around him to grab the chair he was sitting at, pulling it out further and then carefully approaching him again like a baby deer. “It’s okay, why don’t you come sit?”

With my offer he doesn’t retreat further and steps forward, and with the movement I catch how his body seems more rigid, his hands shaking, and his knees too. Link comes and sits on the chair, his legs giving out for the last inch or so. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees to cover his face, giving a rattling breath.

I cautiously step forward and pull out another chair for myself so I can face him. His hands don’t lower, and it dawns on me exactly what’s happening. _ He’s having an anxiety attack—the paleness, trembling limbs, shaky breaths… But why? _I swiftly ignore that thought, knowing full well that most times there’s little cause needed for a panic attack.

“Link, do you want me to go away?” I ask in a hushed tone, being sure to keep my voice slow.

His hands still cover his face but he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, I’m sorry I asked.” My hand reaches out to rest on his thigh, but stops a moment before I make contact. _ Will this just overwhelm him? _

Link answers my question for me and lowers one of his trembling hands to take mine, holding his tightly while his other hand still covers his eyes. I rest my other hand over his clammy one, gingerly clasping it. Just to confirm I quietly press, “It’s okay if you’re having a panic attack—I’ve had them too. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

If only I could’ve come to terms with that a decade ago. Link gives a minute nod, so much so that I almost miss it. After giving a reassuring squeeze with my hand over his, I move it to his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, really. I’ll be a lot more careful from now on.” Even if I still doubt that I was dehydrated and feel distrustful of the horned statue by the pond.

He shakes his head this time which gets his blond hair to sway, and his hand flinches to give mine a tighter squeeze. My thumb caresses over his knuckles, and I watch for any sign of the attack getting worse. I can see his thighs still trembling, one of his legs bouncing to try and dispel the excess adrenaline.

“I’m not judging you. Like I said, I’ve dealt with anxiety too… But I can still leave you alone if you’d prefer,” I offer, making sure he knows that he isn’t pressured to appease me.

Link rubs his eyes with the back of his hand before finally lowering it, his eyes still cast downward and into my lap. He shakes his head again and gives a small gulp for air, trying to remain inconspicuous. I don’t let him know that I saw. “Would you like some tea? Ginger tea always helps settle my stomach when I have—”

Before I can finish my sentence I feel Link’s weight crash against me, leaving me momentarily speechless. I wouldn’t have expected him to ask for comfort when he was so hellbent on hiding his distress, but I’m not about to reject it. My hand that was on his shoulder rests around his back, beginning to soothingly rubbing in circles. While otherwise I might feel a bit bashful at being so close, especially when his forehead is against my shoulder, my instinct to care for him overrules it.

His hand that was holding mine gradually lets go in favour of resting it against my side. I give a glance down to him as my other arm loops around him, being sure not to make him feel trapped. If anything he only melts into the embrace more and stays against me.

I feel each tremble of his body for I don’t know how long, until it begins to fade fraction by fraction. His breaths against my collarbone become less ragged and his leg stops bouncing, but he still stays close for comfort. I’m unable to stop myself from thinking of how much he must trust me—Link’s a kind and humble soul, but nevertheless he’s not one for attention and shies away from it. His weaknesses are easier for him to hide than to show, especially when accompanied by the vulnerability of others watching.

One of my hands raises to rest on his head, delicately petting his soft hair. I’m mindful of my own breaths and keep them at a steady pace which I can feel him match after a few minutes, and still let my fingers lightly card through his blond locks.

When he feels much steadier than before I softly inquire, “How about I make you some of that tea? I’ll get you a blanket too.”

Link gives another tiny nod, and his grip on me loosens though he doesn’t let go. I give one last gentle squeeze and rub before sliding my own chair back, and his arms fall from me and into his lap once more. I head over to the guest bed I was lying on and pull off the bright chartreuse blanket, bundling it in my arms before flicking the sheet. Link stands so I can wrap it over his shoulders and he sits again, now comfortably bundled.

Luckily the kettle over the wood stove is already warm, so it hardly takes any time to come to a rolling boil. I snoop as little as I can until I find his cupboard with teas, sifting through until I smell the familiar sweet scent of ginger. It doesn’t take long to prep a mug for him and I throw spare glances over my shoulder to see if he’s still doing alright, which he appears to be.

In a minute I come back over with a steaming mug of ginger tea that I took the liberty of adding honey to. Link mouths a _ thank you _ before he takes the mug in his hands, and I just give him a smile before resuming my position across from him in the chair. “Do you feel a bit better now?”

He gives another nod of his head, blowing on his tea. Link’s lips purse and his eyes briefly meet mine before he mouths, _ Sorry. _

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I assure him in the same soft tone as before. “If anything, it’s on me for worrying you so much. I should’ve been more careful.”

This time Link doesn’t brush it off and acknowledges it, raising one hand to sign another _ Thank you_.

“You’re welcome—I’m just glad I could help.” I attempt to give my warmest smile, and it seems to work. Link returns it faintly and pulls the bright, chartreuse blanket tighter around himself. “And thank you, too… For opening up.”

His eyes rest on mine and he gives his trademark subtle smile, which is still more than enough to make a warmness bloom in my chest.

  
  
  
  


After being sure that Link took some time to relax, I remade the guest bed and washed the mug he used while he went upstairs to rest in his own bed. I let him know I’m heading out now that I feel so much better, like nothing had happened at all, and that I’ll be back before dark. He offers for me to take Epona if I need her, which is exactly what I was hoping for since there’s no stables near Hateno Village.

I wave to him before stepping out and into Epona’s pen built adjacent to his house along the western wall. The hay crunches under my feet as I hop the fence and give her plenty of pets, which are warmly received. I don’t travel with horses since I prefer to take in my surroundings, but this time I prefer speed over tranquility. After I saddle her up and get her ready, I open the gate to let her out.

Luckily she’s patient and obedient considering I’m not her rider, and I waste no time mounting her before heading out the village.

I’m ready to plan my revenge against the Bokoblin camp that robbed me weeks ago.


	11. Ivory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you are right-hand dominant.

_ Two archer scouts, both Bokoblins. More of them around a roast, including a silver one. Two blue Moblins sleeping. _

I stay nestled in the bushes a decent distance away from camp, ignoring the voice in my head urging me to attack—_it’s so easy when they’re unprepared! _ I shake the thoughts from my head, knowing that going in with a plan is results in a larger margin of success. Besides, I’ve only just woken up from whatever that horned statue did to me; I’m still not convinced that I was dehydrated like Link said. Not only that, but after he had an anxiety attack I’m not sure if I should push my limits and risk scaring him again.

A huff leaves my lips and I hear Epona nicker behind me, standing patiently where I had told her to stay put. I was sure my command along with the half dozen apples I tossed on the ground would keep her from wandering. For a moment after arriving I’d considered wrapping her reins around a log to be sure she’d stay put, but if something were to go wrong then I’d rather she run without me than be stuck.

The Bokoblin scouts are as clueless as usual, glancing around with their beady blue eyes while guarding the chests behind them, undoubtedly filled with the possessions of multiple unlucky travellers. I grumble under my breath as I begin to form a plan.

_ Okay, I could get rid of the two scouts with two well-aimed arrows. Once they’re down, I have a few seconds before the rest notice… Maybe I could take out the rest that are on the ground? No, that’s too risky… They’ll notice and begin to move too erratically for me to hit them accurately. I’ll just give away my position. _I run a hand down my face with a groan, knowing I’m equally underprepared. I’ll have to come back another day to see if they keep the same positions, since the plan I’ve loosely formulated won’t work if their formation changes too much.

With my hands on my knees, I push myself to my feet accompanied by a pop of my knees and tread back over to Epona, who ambles over to me when she spots my approach. “Hey, girl. Looks like we’ll have to come back another day if you’re up for it.”

I give her nose plenty of pets, and hook my foot into the stirrup so I can swing my leg over her back in one smooth motion. While I’m bummed that I can’t get my wallet and rations back today, at least I’ve done something productive. Hell will be unleashed on those monsters like they’ve never known, I swear.

My shoulders roll and I stretch my neck before giving a light flick of the reins and a “_Yah!_” that sends Epona into a canter, then a gallop not long after. As angry as I attempt to be, some thoughts ring in my head that cause a warmness to settle in my stomach.

_ It’s nice to have someone waiting for my return. _

  
  
  
  


I had to wait a few days before I could return to scout out the Bokoblin camp, since Link needed Epona for errands and I had to avoid raising suspicion. The last thing I need is for Link to worry again, and I’m sure he isn’t keen about having another panic attack in my presence.

That being said, my days hadn’t been a complete waste. The Great Pon Tu Inn has a modest ‘library’ (if a single bookshelf counts as a library) that I’d borrowed some books from. Most of which were about sign language and its uses, as well as a guide to learning it.

In one day I’d managed to memorize the individual letters of the Hylian alphabet, all while sitting on one of the cozy chairs near the fireplace. I’d been subtly hiding it from Link, shoving the books under one of the pillows and another under the cushion—I decided that when I finally had a rudimentary understanding of sign language, I’d love to surprise him with it. Not only will it surely make him happy, but it also means I’ll be able to communicate with Link better than before, without forcing him to speak.

_ I could learn more about him than before. Imagine how much closer we’d get closer. _ I dismissed that thought as quickly as it came, unsure why my mind chose that of all things to focus on. _ It’ll make it easier for him to speak his mind. Don’t think of any weird ulterior motives. _

By the second day I was able to spell out words without looking at the illustrated diagrams of the gestures, further cementing my ability to use the alphabet. After I’d spent the morning doing that, I started finally learning common words. As with any language, I started with greetings, basic phrases, goodbyes, and the like.

The third day was when I was finally able to reach a broader vocabulary, though I focused mostly on the signs for emotions and directions, if I ever needed Link to tell me how he feels or he tries to direct me somewhere. It’s already much easier for me to read sign language than actually ‘speak’ it, since my fingers sometimes fumble or I stutter when I have to think of a certain word. The biggest challenge I have yet to overcome is past and present tenses, participles, and progressives.

On the fourth day Link’s errands were limited to the town and housekeeping, meaning I could borrow Epona and head beyond Fort Hateno again to the Bastard Camp, I’ve decided to call it. He’s entirely fine with me borrowing her, but I only do whenever it’s been confirmed that he won’t need her for the day. That and Link objects the use of spurs, which I agree with wholeheartedly—I’ve seen too many spur scars on the sides of noble horses. However much I don’t like them, and despite how they smell, I still would never cause an animal harm.

With a wave and goodbye, I head outside and to the stable. My pack is hefty with the weight of the apples for Epona, and while Link swears I spoil her, he isn’t objecting in the slightest. She deserves every bit for being such an obedient and patient steed.

I shoulder my pack and open the gate, guiding Epona out and locking the gate behind her. As I step up and rest in the saddle, I’m sure to sidle forward until the leather horn is between my thighs. An endearing smile pulls as my lips and I lean forward to pet along her smooth mahogany coat, causing her ears to turn back as I coo. There’s a few knots in the ivory locks of her mane which I’ll be sure to comb out when I return in the late afternoon.

With a small whip of the reins Epona moves forward as obedient as always, and I'm glad for her calm demeanor—it does wonders for an amateur horse rider like myself, who only knows what I’ve seen others do at the stables. Once I’ve navigated beyond the woods and Firly River, the road has fewer forks and to my own pleasant surprise, this trusty draft mare follows the road without any direction needed from me.

Since I don’t have to focus on the path ahead of us, I use my time to run through the Hylian alphabet in sign language, loosely performing the gestures without pulling on the reins looped around my palms. _ Maybe I’ve finally learned enough to show Link…? _ I ponder, my excitement beginning to bubble up again. _ I can’t wait to show him. To see that big smile he only shows during the odd occasion. _

I’m diligent about my practice until we arrive at the same area as before, where I guide Epona to slow and pull over to the side of the dirt road. I hop down and upturn my pack, dumping the red delicious apples onto the ground. That immediately grabs her attention and she bends down to chomp on them, crunching loudly. My hand pets along her side as I stride around her and into the bush where I can spy on the Bastard Camp without being seen.

I peek over a large, moss-layered rock and catch a glimpse of the camp—which seems to be mostly the same as it was previously. _There’s only one more Bokoblin than before, and it’s blue. That doesn’t change the odds too much._ _None of their positions have changed, they don’t even take shifts._ Which is made painfully obvious by one of the scouts who is dead asleep at the top of his post, his bulbous head lying against the chest he’s supposedly guarding. Another two on the ground are taking a nap by the fire, and I resist the urge to take advantage of the situation. This is the exact reason I left my bow back at Link’s house—so I wouldn’t attack them. I only took my broadsword in the event that I needed to defend myself.

As I squint and try to make out any other details of importance, I see one Moblin rummaging through a cloth bag that’s been partially ripped on the bottom. It tears it open and greedily grabs the contents, pulling out a handful of jerky—_ my deer jerky_. My fists clench and I pound one against the rock if only to prevent myself from yelling obscenities at it. _ Looks like I’m not getting that back. _

Before I lose my temper further, I turn back to Epona who’s already made quick work of the apples and peers at me inquisitively, ears flicking my direction. I sigh and come up to scratch her nose. “Sorry, girl. Today’s not the day. I can’t be too reckless and risk getting hurt.”

She snuffles and leans into my hand before I mount her again, beginning the long journey back to Link’s house again. Instead of focusing on those gross monsters, I try to replace those thoughts with the excitement of show Link my rudimentary advancements in sign language.

_ I can’t wait to see his smile. _

  
  
  
  


The sun has just begun to set by the time Epona and I make it back, and I herd her back into her stable. Her trough is refilled with oats and I remove her saddle, bridle, and riding blanket to the best of my ability—I take longer than a practiced rider would, that’s for sure. I take the brushes mounted on the wall to scrub and smooth her coat, clearing it of any dirt or flies. I’m glad that the goddesses have enough mercy to render me noseblind to the smell, which I’m still not particularly fond of.

The orange light of the sunset paints her ivory mane the same colour, and I take more time when running the soft-bristled brushes through Epona’s mane, not wanting to tug or hurt her. After the painstaking process, I braid the thick locks just to prevent more knots and tangles from occuring in the near future. Her blanket is hung over the far side of the gate to prevent it from being swept away by the wind, and I grab the heavy wool comforter to drape over her back. To my own surprise, I give her a peck on the nose before I leave and lock the stable, heading towards the warmth of Link’s cottage.

As always I give a soft knock before letting myself in just to alert Link that I’m entering, and stomp off some clumps of dirt and hay before I step in. The heat of the house is enough for me to breathe a sigh of relief, especially after being able to see my own chilly breath during the ride back. I step out of my boots and see Link stirring a pot of reheated elk stew that I’d made some weeks ago, which he evidently stored the leftovers of in his icebox. His hair is tied back into a bun while he cooks and I have to put effort into not thinking about how well it suits him.

My excitement already makes my hands fumble when I think about what I have to sign, but I run through it in my head. Link gives me a welcoming smile as he continues to stir over the wood stove, and I approach him while trying not to let my enthusiasm give me away. When I’ve come to his side I lightly tap his shoulder, prompting him to turn his head to look at me.

I smile sheepishly and raise my hands, which his eyes follow as I slowly sign.

_ How is...your day? _

Link’s blue eyes widen like I’ve never seen, and his hand stirring the pot of stew completely halts. He peers up at me again, then my hands, then me. I smile and try to sign something else I’ve learned for this occasion.

_ I learned sign language. _

He lets go of the wooden spoon and it makes a _ plop _ as it lands in the stew, causing me to smile and try not to laugh. Link excitedly starts to sign in response, and I luckily know just enough words to pick up on it. _ When? _

My brows scrunch up as I think of the signs to make. _ Three days ago. _

His smile grows into that adorable grin that makes my stomach turn, his dimples showing. Link is still smiling brightly as he gently takes my wrists from when I signed _ day_, and reverses their positions with my forearms folded over one another.

“Oh, I did it the wrong direction?” I question, and he gives a nod, then demonstrates himself. I copy, resting my right arm over my left with my index finger pointed.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Link this excited, but if this isn’t enough motivation to keep learning sign language then I don’t know what is. He signs to me, _ Can you spell your name? _

I give a nod and sign it easily, especially since it was the first thing I learned along with the alphabet. With my somewhat-broken words, I continue, _ And you. L-I-N-K. _

Link’s cheeks seem like they’d hurt by now, but he doesn’t stop smiling in the slightest as he says, _ I can teach you more. _

My own grin grows and I nod easily, always willing to accept his help as I answer, _ Please! _

He turns to lift the pot from the burner, setting it aside so it won’t burn, and then leads me to the table where we both sit. Link’s practically ecstatic as he asks, _ What do you know? _

_ Alphabet, numbers, colours, hello, goodbye, please, thank you, and how are you doing_, I answer, my words still choppy.

That’s evidently more than enough for Link to puff up with pride, and luckily I can understand sign language better than I can ‘speak’ it. _ I’ll teach you types of weather. _

He raises his index finger to make a small circle above his head, then spreads his fingers out. “That’s _ sun_,” he says softly. I have to try not to get too caught up on his voice before I copy it.

I make a circle with my hand and spread my fingers, but Link reaches out to once again take my hand—I’m not about to complain. His hands are warm and are firm from healed callouses, and he directs my hand to make the circle, then turn towards myself and splay my fingers. _ Why’s he guiding me when he could just show me again? _I find myself asking, knowing it’s strange, but not objecting at all.

“Sun,” I quietly repeat, making the motion myself this time. Link nods, and pulls his hands back to show the next one.

He wiggles his fingers as he lowers his hands, palms-down. In his hushed voice he says, “Rain.”

I copy that one easily, then practice _ sun _ again, and then _ rain_. He repeats the motion, but this time his palms face me. “This is snow.”

I repeat _ rain_, palms down, and then _ snow_, palms facing forward.

Link lazily waves his hands side to side this time. “Wind.”

“Wind…” I echo as I copy the motion, finding these ones to be decently simple to remember. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.

“And cloudy.” Link moves his hands to have facing palms, and then circles them while moving them aside.

“It looks like a cloud,” I cleverly denote as I mime his movements. Though this time I’m sure I haven’t done anything wrong, Link places his hands over mine to pull them a bit further apart, then repeats the motion.

_ Maybe if I keep ‘screwing up’ he’ll hold them longer… _ For the first time I don’t shove the thought from my mind, and find myself agreeing. I test this theory with the next word he shows me, which has him holding his hands up in fists, shivering. “This is cold.”

It’s an easy sign to make and one of the few that’s universally understood, but I still don’t make tight fists as I mimic him. As predicted, Link gingerly wraps his hands over mine to close them, but doesn’t let go—his palms are so much warmer than my own, and I find myself wishing he wouldn’t let go. Luckily we both seem to have the same train of thought, both of us frozen for a minute without saying why. Our eyes don’t meet out of fear of ruining the moment, instead resting on our clasped hands.

Finally he clears his throat and retracts his hands, and I catch the pinkish tint to his cheeks even in the dim light. “Last one: hot.” He raises a hand to his mouth, index finger and thumb on either side, then moves them down like he’s taking a piece of hot food from his mouth.

“Like this?” I ask as I mirror it exactly this time around, my (E/C) eyes resting on his.

“With your dominant hand,” Link corrects with that sweet voice of his, doing it again. And again I copy it.

He shakes his head, blond hair swaying, and takes my hand (thankfully). There’s something I find strangely comforting about his touch. Link raises it to his own mouth to sign, causing me to feel his warm breath against my palm, and lowers my hand. I concentrate on not letting my face flush a shade darker.

“This is my dominant hand.” My right hand does the sign for _ hot _ a third time for him, this time causing my fingers to barely brush against his lips.

We both pause when we realize how close we are, my fingers still just an hair’s breadth away from his lips with his hand holding mine. This time we both gain the bravery to meet gazes, seeing how we’ve each slid forward in our seats until our knees were touching. It’s so silent between us that the soothing crackles of the fireplace sound like fireworks. The orange light from the flames cast a soft glow against Link’s boyish, endearing features, which only captivates me more.

This time I’m the one to clear my throat and lean back, instantly inwardly cursing when I realize what I’ve done.

“S-sorry,” Link whispers, letting go of my hand. “I assumed you were left-handed like me.”

I shake my head, but still feel a certain reluctance to pull away. “It’s okay. Thanks for teaching me some more.”

He nods, growing a bit awkward as he glances at the pot of stew behind him, and then back to me. “I should, um…”

  
He doesn’t have to say more for me to understand, and I slide myself back into my chair as he gets up, resuming his position by the stove so the stew doesn’t grow cold. I stay at the table, but I still find myself wondering, _ What kind of friends are we? _


	12. Vermillion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which tea is your only comfort.

_ His hands are warm against my skin and his lips are searing as they brush over my collarbone teasingly. My head tilts back with ease, my hands raising to card through his locks of dirty blond hair. I press my lips into a thin line as I feel him press more kisses against my neck, pulling myself closer to him. No matter how much of him is touching me, it just isn’t enough… _

_ I’m greedy for more and when his head lifts, his brilliantly blue eyes render me speechless. I can’t tell who leans forward first, but we’re both hungry for each other—our lips crash together and I take a sharp inhale, my hands cradling the back of his head. His hands are everywhere and I don’t have any objections, letting them roam over my body as I kiss him back heavily. The heat between us is palpable, and I just want more, more, _ ** _more…_ **

  
  
  
  


When I wake, it’s with a gasp and my body stiffening under the blankets. I clear my throat as my mind begins to digest exactly what I was dreaming about, and I fail to prevent my cheeks from burning up. _ Why was I even dreaming about that? _I inwardly groan, knowing that each time I look at him today I’ll only be able to think of the dream I had. A thin layer of sweat covers my forehead, which I brush away with the back of my arm.

My body’s incredibly warm under the blankets, almost uncomfortably so, and especially between my own thighs to my own dismay. I rub a hand down my face again, sighing as I try to shake the remaining imagery from my head. However, it seems my mind has other ideas. _ I wonder if his hands are really that warm… If his body is that firm, if his touch is that gentle… _

With a roll, I plunk my flushed face into the pillow and wish that everything I’m feeling would just disappear, as impossible as that is. I begin to ponder why I’m even having dreams like this in the first place, but the path leading to that conclusion is something I shut down before I even get a chance to consider it.

Once the uncomfortable need in the pit of my stomach begins to fade, I push the blankets off of myself and swing my legs out from the bed. The hardwood floor is cold against my toes, and I steel myself before getting up and heading to the kettle—it’s weighty and full, so I place it over the wood stove. The logs of pre-cut wood sit in a pile next to the fireplace, held in a neat stack with the cast iron rack. I grab a few larger logs and some thinner pieces before heading back to the oven and placing them inside. A jagged piece of flint and steel sit on the counter nearby, which I grab to light the stove.

The only thing I can think of to calm me right about now is a nice cup of tea, and I’ll make one for Link while I’m at it. I’m not sure if he’s asleep or already out of the house, but either way it’ll be a nice treat waiting for him. I scour through the cupboard and sniff each tin of tea until I find peppermint, which I then wrap in some cheesecloth to set in the mugs.

As I wait for the kettle to whistle, I head over to the couch near the fireplace and grab one of my library books. I page through the lessons I’ve already familiarized myself with until I find something new, and begin to read through. It’s not long until the kettle begins to whistle, so I bustle over in hopes that it won’t wake Link and remove it from the burner. I glance up at the landing where I can just barely see his bed, watching for movement.

There isn’t so much as a rustle, and I breathe a sigh of relief before pouring the steaming water into the mugs. I cradle my mug in my hands, letting it warm up my body as I head back to the couch and pull the thick knit blanket draped over the back. I bundle up in it and resume my reading as my tea cools down.

When I read the title of the chapter I swallow thickly, wondering if this is some kind of unfortunate joke.

_ Types of Expression: Love _

A sharp exhale leaves my mouth but I convince myself that it’s just a coincidence, there’s no reason to read into it. I learn how to sign the words _ love_, _ romance_, _ kiss_, and the like, trying to remind myself that I won’t have a use for them. The further I read, the more complex the signs become as they form phrases. Even if I don’t use these signs, it does no harm to familiarize myself with them.

How to ask for a hug or kiss, to say that I like something, or…

_ I love you. _

I stare down at the phrase and illustration almost with contempt, but I’m not about to let a book get the best of me—I tuck my middle and ring finger down, and extend my index and pinky. _ I love you. _

My hand does the motion again, but I shut the book before my mind can continue to wander. I’ve learned enough for just the morning, and I wouldn’t want my tea to get cold, I try to reason with myself.

Speaking of going cold—I set the book aside and keep the thick blanket around my shoulders as I head up the stairs, careful to avoid any places that may be creaky. “Link?” I quietly call, not enough to startle him if he’s still asleep. The sheets are mussed up and I can’t see him, so I take another step forward just to peek. I tiptoe forward until I see a head of messy blond hair, but it never comes. My hand unoccupied by the mug sweeps back the thick sheets, and I’m met with an empty bed. Looks like he got an early start on the day.

I sigh, figuring I can still give him his tea later even if it’s a tad cold, since he usually isn’t gone for too long in the mornings. _ Has he had breakfast yet? Hm… Should I make some for him? Or wait? _

Since I’ve already made tea that’ll be cold by the time he reaches it, I assume a cold meal would be no better. It’d be better to play it safe and wait until he’s done whatever chores or errands he may have to run today.

  
  
  
  


Hours pass by and I sit and study sign language, and as the morning stretches into the afternoon, I drink the cold cup of peppermint tea originally steeped for Link. Normally he isn’t gone this long, and I find it quite strange… But then again, I know it’s none of my business what he gets up to during his own time. That doesn’t stop me from wondering what he could possibly be doing for so long, and as the afternoon begins to depart in time for the evening, I let my curiosity get the better of me. Besides, it’d be good for me to go on a walk outside of the house.

I pull on my thick jacket and step into my leather boots, tapping the toes of them against the ground to be sure they’re firmly on. The door unlocks and I leave it unlocked, since I don’t have a key to let myself back in. The cast iron pot over the fire sits still, and I tread over to rest my hand just over the white ashes—they’re entirely cold, evidently not in use for at least the past day. No sign of Link there, I suppose.

Just for good measure I spare a glance at the stable adjoined to the modest cottage, but Epona isn’t there either.

My hood is pulled up to cover my head with a huff, since the air that drifts down from Mount Lanayru brings a blistering chill that seeps through your clothing. It’s not unwelcome but it definitely makes the warmth of fires feel much more appeasing. I head across the wooden bridge and into town, glancing around to try and spy a familiar head of blond hair. Nothing catches my eye, even after I walk up the main road and back down again, earning some strange looks from the hags who gossip by the newsboard.

I bite the inside of my cheek and tap my foot, wondering what to do, when I feel someone run into the back of my leg. My body steps forward before turning to see who it is, hoping for it to be Link though I know they’re much too small.

“Oh...sorry, Miss Link!” a small boy says as he blinks up at me.

“Miss… I’m sorry, what? I’m (Y/N),” I gently correct.

“Well I always see you with Link, and I know you’re staying at his house!” the young boy deduces.

“I...guess that’s technically true. Oh, but what’s your name?”

The boy has chestnut brown hair with pale blue eyes that complement the leather-string necklace he wears with turquoise beads. “I’m Nebb, nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too,” I reply with a small smile. “Hey, Nebb. Do you think you could help me?”

Excitedly he claims, “Yes!”

“But you don’t even know what I need help with yet,” I lightly tease, kneeling down to be closer to his height.

“I can help with _ anything_.”

I give a low whistle. “Wow, anything?”

“_Anything_.”

A laugh escapes my lips before I confirm, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing big. I was just wondering if you’ve seen Link today?”

Nebb gives a small frown, clearly thinking. “Hmmm… Yeah! I did!”

“Really? When?”

“This morning! I saw Master Link ride his horse over there!” Nebb points back to the wooden bridge I came from, further west.

A bit disheartened at the unhelpful answer, I give another small sigh but mask it well. “Thanks so much, Nebb. That’s a big help!”

He gives me a toothy grin, clearly pleased with himself. “Told you, I know everything!” A woman from further away calls his name, and Nebb turns to glimpse at the woman, presumably his mother, before turning back to me. “It’s time for supper, so I gotta go. Bye, (Y/N)!”

“That’s okay, thank you for the help!” I wave goodbye as he runs back over to the woman who ushers him inside since it’s begun to darken.

I stand back up before and consider what else I can do before coming to the conclusion that there’s nothing. Before I get too much colder, I head back to Link’s house in hopes of stoking the fire and warming my hands. Though I’m sure this isn’t a big deal and I’m simply thinking of the worst situation, I still feel mildly unsettled that he hasn’t been home all day and no one seems to have seen him do anything besides ride west.

Luckily I’m met with no intruders when I open the door and step inside, rubbing my feet off on the welcome mat before taking off my boots. _ Should I lock it? What if Link comes home? But I also don’t want anyone else to come wandering in here. _After a moment’s respite, I turn the brass latch to lock the door. Surely Link has a key, and if not, I’ll definitely hear him knock.

I don’t know why my mind is so obsessed with feeling unsettled, and leaves me anxious and unsure. Where _ is _ Link, and why has he taken so long? He’s always left notes in the past, for things as small as letting me know he’s gone out to buy eggs and will be back in ten minutes. So why not this time? Has something gone awry?

My bad habit of biting my lip takes over as I simply grab some dried elk jerky from my bag that I’d made about a week ago, not wanting to take advantage of Link’s kindness and empty his icebox. I chew on the treated meat but it feels like paste when I already have such a dry mouth. I’ve no appetite for it either, but I missed lunch while studying and have only had two cups of peppermint tea. Perhaps it’d be better to take my mind off this incessant worrying by studying more, but now that I’m aware of my anxiety, that’s impossible.

I spend the evening cozied up to the fire with the thickly-knit blanket over my lap and a book in my hands. After reading one page several times over and still being unable to remember it, I decide that it’s futile to keep trying. _ It’s so late now, almost midnight… Where is he? _ I take a deeper breath, suddenly feeling a bit deprived of air, but settle back down against the couch. _ Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about the things you can’t control. _

Despite how I remind myself, my body and mind don’t feel any more assured than they previously were. I don’t attempt to eat any more jerky, having lost my appetite some time ago and now my sleep as well. The moments I’m able to sleep are few and far between, mostly feeling fidgety and uncomfortable on the couch despite being so tired and warm. I spend the better part of the night awake, until I eventually give up entirely.

The dawn brings a pale light that floods through the windows, though it doesn’t lighten the dark circles under my eyes. Breakfast still has no appeal though I make another cup of ginger tea to settle my stomach. _ Why is he still not back yet? It’s been an entire day now. I know that he has his own schedule and business, and everything’s probably fine, but this terrible feeling just won’t go away. _

The entire day passes so painfully slow that I’m not even sure it was just one day—it feels like four. I still can’t bring myself to eat though I sip on some water, and my focus is too skewed to learn anymore sign language. In an attempt to be productive, I head outside to chop up some wood to replace the logs on the rack near the fireplace. The only thing it helps to do is numb my arms and tire my body, using the excess adrenaline in my body to fuel the motions rather than make me antsy. I cut more wood than Link will need for the next week, but at least it keeps me busy.

_ Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump._

My ears immediately prick at the sound, horse’s hooves, and I stand straight. I can’t see anything in immediate distance and so I listen, hoping dearly for it to be Link. Excitement and anxiety bubble up in me at once as I hear the heavy gallop grow closer. My grip on the oak handle of the axe tightens, further irritating my blisters I’ve gained, though the pain is entirely absent as I wait for the horse and its rider to come into view. It comes from the west which is exactly where Nebb pointed, so my hope raises more than it should.

All I can see is the faint colour of mahogany, and I give a sharp intake of breath as I recognize Epona—and undoubtedly, Link riding her. As he grows closer I can make out the bright blue and vermillion tunic he wears complete with white embroidery, and a smile unintentionally spreads across my face.

“Link!” I call, raising the arm that doesn’t hold the axe. I wave but he doesn’t wave back, which strikes me as off, but I don’t worry about it. “Where did you go? I got worried!”

As Epona draws closer, I’m able to make out more details. Link’s skin is pale in comparison to his vibrant tunic, his hands loose around the reins. His eyes are heavily-lidded, and that terrible gut feeling begins to return. His feet are loose in the stirrups, his beige pants are torn in spots, and the closer he gets, the less sure I am that the tunic is meant to have a large spot of vermillion. When I’m sure that it’s not part of the tunic’s pattern, I feel my stomach drop further and faster.

Even faster than Link falls from Epona and into the wildflower patches, with three arrows sticking out from his back.


	13. Nacarat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which your medical skills are tested.

I don’t even think to yell his name as I rush forward, my feet suddenly feeling heavier than lead. It’s akin to running in a dream—_go faster, faster, faster_, I tell myself, but it isn’t enough. Epona gives a distressed neigh and sidesteps away, looking positively ready to run or in the worst case, kick.

The wildflowers are trampled under my weight as I lower to my knees, leaning down to inspect the injuries Link’s sustained in his time away. I raise the back of my knuckles to his mouth, and his faint breaths are enough to ease my heart just a tad. _ When did my hand start shaking so bad? _ I make a fist before leaning down and asking, “L-Link? Link, are you awake? Can you a-answer me?”

My voice trembles and I curse every stammer I make, straining my ears to listen for a response until they’re nearly ringing. Blood pounds in my head and nearly deafens me, but I hear Link’s weak and breathy response that comes in the form of a moan.

“Okay, okay—” I’ve had my fair share of wounds after scuffles that didn’t end in my favour, but all my knowledge for how to deal with them seems to have left me. “I’m going to bring you inside, okay?”

He gives another groan, but regardless of what it may mean, my hands slide under his arms to haul him up. Luckily his build isn’t much larger than mine, so he shouldn’t be too heavy—I say _ should _ because with the adrenaline in my veins, he may as well be weightless. After supporting him against my side and pulling his left arm around my shoulder, my other hand moves behind his lower back to hold his side and support him. _ It feels wet. And sticky. And warm. _

I retract my hand with a flinch as Link gives another groan of protest, his head hanging weakly. His blood on my hand feels unnatural and disconcerting, but I still raise my shaking fingers to see how they’ve been dyed with a bright crimson. Nausea rises in my throat but I swallow it down. “S-sorry,” I answer after accidentally holding his side, which has evidently been cut deeply—if it isn’t evident from how much of his azure tunic is now stained, then it definitely is after feeling how deep the gaping gash through his waist is.

Epona is still unsettled and antsy, shaking her head and hooves pawing into the green (and red) grass. For now I’ll have to trust that she stays put, since she doesn’t have any glaring wounds of her own. I begin to stride to the door of Link’s cottage with his arm around my shoulders, his blond head still hanging and giving occasional whimpers as he attempts to step beside me. More often than not he fumbles and trips on his own feet, but I do my best to stop him from jostling as I have him step inside. Neither of us bother with taking off our boots, since dirt and blood can be cleaned from the hardwood at a later date.

“Alright, going to lay you down,” I grit through my teeth, the only thing preventing me from stuttering more. His knees bump the edge of the guest mattress where I slept just this morning, sheets still wrinkled and messily made. I hold Link’s shoulders and bend my knees to assist him in lying down, his own free hand weakly coming forward as if to cushion his descent.

Once Link is lying on his stomach on the mattress, his head to the side, eyes barely open and shallowly breathing, my mind still hasn’t come up with any solutions. _ Why do I have to be so painfully sluggish now, of all times? _ I take a deep, calming breath to center myself and abide the panic. _ Okay. Gauze, cotton, water, maybe even… _ My eyes are drawn to the deep, bloody gash in Link’s right side that cuts inward by two inches or so. It’s already begun to lazily trail blood onto the bright chartreuse sheets, blossoming them with a dark crimson where he lays. _ ...And maybe even stitches. _

I’m certain I don’t have enough gauze in my backpack sitting against the nearby wall, and definitely don’t have the supplies for stitches. I rummage in my bag, grabbing my (new) wallet, and clear my throat before resting a hand gingerly to Link’s shoulder. “Link? I’m going to run to the general store to get more stuff.”

My knees crack as I push myself to my feet and turn away, heading for the door—

A weak, clammy hand grasps my wrist, nearly losing grip. I glance back to Link to see his dulled, cyan eyes heavily lidded. He mouths something. _ Please. _

His lips move again with no sound, before his raspy voice barely manages to whisper, “_I’m scared._”

To hear such a weak and vulnerable voice, so reminiscent of a child’s, makes my heart clench in my chest and I have to blink away the faint burning in my eyes. I can’t bear to leave him alone like this, but I know I must—if not, then who knows how his injuries could worsen? But even that reasoning isn’t enough to prevent me from caving.

I step back to his side and his trembling hand drops limply back to the bed. Before I can think it through, I do the first thing I my body instinctively reacts with. I lean forward to press my lips to his forehead to give a short yet tender peck. His skin is slicked with sweat and cold, smudged with dirt.

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can. I _ promise_.”

Link’s eyes search mine lazily, searching for a reason not to believe me, but come up empty. They then drift shut and his only response is a short groan. I brush back some of his dulled blond locks before tearing myself away and to the door. The moment the door shuts, I’m all but sprinting across the bridge. Tiredness is no longer something I’m familiar with, all I know is energy and alertness. Perhaps mania.

I thank Din, Nayru, Farore, and every Great Fairy in between that the general store is the closest to Link’s house—Hylia knows there isn’t a doctor in this tiny hamlet. The dash to the store isn’t present in my mind, all I know is that somehow I’ve appeared in front of the door. I all but shoulder-check it open, bursting in and creating quite the ruckus. The shop’s owner stumbles back a bit at the noise, and I shove aside one or two shoppers to get to the shopkeep. They’re not people right now, just obstacles.

“I need gauze, cotton, and suturing kit,” I all but demand like I’ve practiced that line my entire life.

The shopkeep stammers and adjusts his glasses, clearly taken aback. “W-well, we have, erm, those in stock, yes…”

“_Now! _”

He flinches back with a yelp before he bends down to retrieve them from the undisplayed stock under the desk, then sets them in front of me. “Th-that’ll be, um—”

I lack the patience to listen any longer and throw a handful of red rupees at him before pulling the supplies into my arms and sprinting back to the door. It hasn’t even had enough time to close in the brief time since I opened it. I’m sure not to drop anything, and run through my head the procedures I’ll need. _ Grandmother was a nurse. She taught me these things as a child. Now if only I could _ ** _remember them._ **

The dash back to the house feels lengthened and I’m hardly tolerant of delays at the moment. I don’t create such a calamity as I enter this time, pressing the backside of my shoulder to the cool wood of the door. “Link? I’m back, I’m here.”

I jog to the bedside, and see him still laying where I’d left him without moving an inch. His eyelashes flutter but his eyes fail to open. _ Focus. Focus. You have to do this. _

One of the chairs from the table is dragged over as a makeshift stool where I set down the supplies, and I run the back of my hand over his forehead again—still clammy. My hands fumble as they search for what they need before my mind even knows what to look for, but after it catches up I open my pack to pull out my hunting knife. “Going to roll you onto your side,” I warn in a voice that’s much more relaxed than I currently feel.

The expensive-looking, vibrant fabric wrinkles under my touch as I grip his right shoulder and thigh, mindful to not make the same mistake as before and irritate the laceration on his side. Just enough force is applied to roll him onto his side, and his body is limp enough to comply. Nothing could break my focus, even the implications of my hands reaching forward to undo the clasps of his belt. My hands no longer tremble as I undo the brass buckles and pull them off, then lower him back onto his stomach.

I rest one knee on the straw mattress, causing it to dip slightly as I take hold of the tunic and line up the blade against the bottom seam. At least this way I can sew it together after, even if it’s a bit torn at the moment. The soft material easily parts along the knife’s blade as I slide it along uninhibited without the leather belts. The knife glides to the first arrow just under his left shoulderblade, and I keep my hand steady so as not to jostle the shaft of the arrow. Then from the first to the second arrow that’s just left of his spine, in the small of his back, and finally to the last arrow that’s lodged itself near the top of his right shoulder. From there I cut to the neckline and peel the tunic open like a book, revealing a tale I wish I didn’t have to read.

I’m forced to do the same to his wool thermal shirt underneath, which is emblazoned with bright nacarat orange and mossy greens. I begin cutting in the same pattern like I’m connecting the dots from one arrowhead to the next. Soon enough Link’s back is bared as he lies on the bed, and I let out a heavy exhale. The sight is grisly and I feel nausea rise in my throat again, not from the sight of blood, but from my worries for him. _ I’m no doctor—how am I supposed to do this? _one of the many pessimistic voices in my head pipes up.

_ You know the basics. That’ll have to be enough_, I assure myself with the overriding thought. Like my grandmother said, your wound is only as clean as your workspace. I jog to the stove where I grab the kettle, the water luckily still hot enough from my tea this morning; at least I know the water is sterile after being boiled. I rummage through the cabinets nearby before finding hand towels, swiping for one to dampen with water. When the towel is just wet enough I drape it over my arm, then pour the hot water over my own hands one at a time.

It nearly burns but then again, I’m unsure. I can’t feel much at all presently.

The kettle is slid back onto the stovetop as I take the towel and cross the room to Link’s side. I sit on the side of the bed and wonder where to begin—_probably with the most severe. _My lips press into a thin line to steel myself, my other hand resting to his lower back as a small warning. Without further stalling I press the towel to the deep gash, dabbing tenderly around the outside to get rid of the caked, dried blood. I work my way inward, flipping the cloth to the clean side as I prepare to press it to the tender, torn, and exposed flesh. My hesitance lasts for just a moment before I press the towel down firmly, stifling the blood flow and rinsing it the best I can without having lukewarm water to pour. The kettle is too high of a temperature and I don’t want to waste the time it takes to cool.

Link’s body stiffens, back arching as he gives a hard grunt. His body seems to spring back to life with the pain, his hands clenching the sheets by his head.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts—but it’ll be over soon,” I say to reassure myself as much as him.

The towel is pulled back, shifted to a cleaner side, and once again placed against the deep gash with moderate and increasing pressure. _T__he cut is so straight… Too straight to be any sort of animal. It has to have been a sword swiped at him from the side, or maybe a spear... With the intention of cutting him in half. But who did it? _

Link’s grunt dies down but I see how the muscles in his neck tense from clenching his jaw. Just to be sure, I wipe away more blood until it’s as clean as it’ll be. The sheets are a shade of maroon around the wound, which is dripping much slower. _ Alright, time for the hardest part. _

I pivot to grab the suturing kit, my inhales becoming more laboured as I think about all the ways I could mess up. As a child my grandmother made me practice on pigskin, which had a firmer consistency but was similar to human flesh. My mind wracks itself for as many memories of that event as possible as I take the suturing needle and thread, which is (thank the goddesses, again) already threaded. Whoever makes these kits earns my gratitude, because Hylia knows I can’t thread a needle the way I am now.

To sterilize it I once again jog to the kettle, pouring it over the suture and stiff thread before setting it back down. I jog back, feeling like I’ve done more running today than I have in the past week. The straw mattress sinks under my weight again, the blood from Link’s side and the sheets staining the leg of my trousers. For a second time I rest my left hand to his lower back, rubbing consolingly as I swallow thickly. _ Get the forceps and driver, tie the string, and stop stalling. _

I take a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, keeping the pattern to stay calm as I ready myself with the supplies. “I’m stitching it shut, okay? It’ll hurt but I know you’re going to be just fine.”

I catch the weak nod he gives, his eyes not quite open.

“Okay,” I affirm as I lean down, my left elbow resting on Link’s lower back as I align the forceps to press down against one side of the wound. It already earns the slightest flinch, and my jaw tenses unbeknownst to me as my right hand raises the suturing needle. The sharpened tip touches his skin, and again I have to push myself before rotating my wrist to dig it into the side of the gash.

His skin sinks under the pressure before the needle smoothly enters, causing Link to give a choked sound that trails off and into another groan. I move the forceps to steady the other side of the wound, sliding it in and out again before giving a gentle tug to tighten it. I can see his arms tense and then release when the muscles of his back and shoulders pull taut against the arrow wounds. The needle is held close by the slice as I reach forward with my other hand to drag the pillow to Link’s head.

“Bite it instead of tensing your arms,” I instruct with care but a firmness that has him obey without question. He bites down on the pillow filled with cucco feathers as I resume my work.

The movements of my hands are surprisingly deft for not having done this in the past decade, and I work silently as I continue to sew the wide gash shut. The most difficult part is maintaining the same level of care when his blood makes my grip slippery, then sticky. When I near the middle, he rolls himself onto his left side so I can continue. His body is slightly hunched, still holding the pillow close with his jaw locked. I almost miss how his eyes water from the searing pain, and I pause in my ministrations. _ He’s doing so well, but I know it’s painful. _

Again, I lean to press a soft kiss to his forehead like my mother would do to me when I was young. Link’s eyes open but I’ve looked away by the time they rest on me, his body relaxing by the smallest margin.

“Half done, you’re so close. You’re doing great.” Before this strong motivation somehow fades, I proceed with the last half that’s around his front side. It seems like only minutes for me but I’m sure it feels like hours to him.

By the time I reach the final stitch, I place a soothing hand on his side while the other wraps the string around my knuckles and pulls the laceration shut. Link once again stifles a noise into the pillow and I make quick work of knotting the string after making it as taut as possible.

“There, all done,” I whisper as I lean to see how he’s taken it.

His face stays in the pillow, and he’s unmoving for a few minutes until I bring my hand up to pat his head like it could mitigate the pain. After tenderly running my fingers through his dirty hair and the occasional knot, Link’s head finally turns with his cheek to the pillow. It doesn’t stop me from petting his head and tucking a lock behind his ear.

“No more stitches or crazy pain.” My affirmation causes his body to deflate even more, letting go of the tension. Using some medical tape, I secure a wad of soft cotton against his side before placing a layer of gauze over top. “Let me get you a glass of water before I keep going.”

I push myself to stand and return to the kettle, pouring some water into a cup Link undoubtedly carved himself. By the time I return, he’s already used his left arm to push himself into a sitting position so he can take the cup. I try not to stare at the arrows in his back, the one in his right shoulder already broken.

He stares blankly into his distorted reflection in the cup and holds it for a prolonged moment before mustering enough energy to drink. Rather than sipping he downs it all in one go, which has me concerned momentarily before I take the cup back and pour him another. It’s drank just as quickly.

I allow for a few minutes of reprieve as he gets some energy back, no longer straddling the line of consciousness. That’s not to say he isn’t hazy with blood loss. No words are spoken between us because none are needed, and I’m hardly about to pry and ask where he got such injuries from. That’s a chat for another day; right now I’m more focused on treating his wounds.

After giving a suitable period of rest (and being paranoid about letting the arrows stay embedded), I raise my hands to sign.

_ Ready? _

Link nods and returns the gesture, letting me assist him in laying down so as to not disturb his side—it unfortunately doesn’t work and I see some blood blossom against the cotton, but not enough to raise concern. He rolls onto his stomach again to give me unhindered access to his back.

I rinse my hands with hot water once more to rid of the tacky, dried blood that paints my fingers a deep maroon, and Link keeps the pillow close like before. The obvious place to start is the arrow embedded in the back of his right shoulder which has already broken in half. With steady hands I twist the broken half of the wooden shaft until it snaps and I set it aside. I lean forward to get closer to the wound, none of which have bled much since the arrows haven’t been removed. My right hand takes hold of the shaft near where it meets Link’s back, my other hand pressing to the small of his back to ensure he doesn’t move too much.

Another moment’s rest is given before I carefully begin to twist the arrow, paying close attention to how it feels. _ It turns without getting stuck...good. If not, then it would mean the arrowhead lodged itself in bone and I’d have to widen the wound to get it out. _Link’s shoulders hunch at the sharp pain despite how he tries to stay relaxed. Now that I’m sure that it isn’t stuck in his clavicle, I tighten my grip around the splintered shaft and gradually pull upwards—blood’s already clotted in these wounds, so I don’t want to start it again. I’ll just have to rinse them out and apply some medical tape rather than stitch it shut.

Link gives a choked groan of pain as it begins to gradually dislodge and eventually comes out. I move onto the next one and repeat the process, ignoring how the poorly-crafted arrows with their shoddy fletching give me splinters as I remove them. Link does his best not to writhe, and my hand that isn’t removing the arrow always keeps him lightly pinned down.

It isn’t until the last arrow where a problem arises in the form of the arrowhead snapping itself from the shaft. I swear under my breath and see where the arrowhead lays buried in the muscle of Link’s back.

“I’m going to have to take out the arrowhead, okay? It’ll hurt for just a little bit.” I feel guilty for rescinding my statement about not causing any more pain. Either way Link gives a stout nod.

I reach over his body to grab the forceps from when I was stitching his side, and wash them with the kettle’s warm water. All I can do is pray that this somehow doesn’t cause more damage than it already has, since I’m no expert in removing weapons lodged into people’s bodies—or picking out the pieces. Rather than pin his back, my left hand moves to mindfully pull the wound apart just enough for me to slip the forceps in. It’s much deeper than I anticipated, and I hate having to gouge the tools even further.

Link gives a dry, sob-like sound as I do so, his body shuddering momentarily. A cold sweat has begun to form in response to the intense pain as I spread the forceps enough to clamp down on the flint arrowhead—I pull and it slips. He gives another pitiful sound.

“Sorry, sorry....” I mumble, trying once more though it means burying the forceps even deeper to secure a decent grip. I can’t imagine that something rummaging beneath his skin is very pleasant.

Link gives shallow and shaky breaths underneath me as I work as efficiently as I can, clamping down on the object before pulling upwards. It dislodges from its place, now loose, but the forceps once again lose their grip since this isn’t the task they were designed for. My lips purse and my throat is dry as I try for the third time, attempting to block out Link’s sounds of pain despite how he tries to muffle them. With the same technique I’m able to grab the piece of sharpened flint and slowly remove it without losing it once again.

I take a deep inhale, starved for oxygen and unaware that I ever stopped breathing. The piece of bloodied flint is placed on the chair with the rest of the medical supplies before I head to the cabinet and grab a second towel. I soak it in water as I did before, returning to rinse the deep puncture wounds left by the arrows. My eyes sharpen and I pay extra attention to the third wound to be sure all shards of flint are gone.

With a bit of medical tape over each one, my work is finally done.

Exhaustion takes over the moment I set down the forceps and I sit on the mattress with my elbows resting on my knees, my head in my hands. While adrenaline more often than not proves to be useless and a source of dreaded anxiety, it’s done its job well and retreats to leave me feeling like a ragdoll.

Still I swallow thickly and force myself to sit up, knowing I need to be strong for the foreseeable future.

“I’m sorry about your tunic,” I murmur to him as I bend over to pick up the tattered remains. The bright cyan of the material that’s shockingly similar to Link’s eyes has been scuffed and sliced, and the right side is surrounded by a now brown bloodstain. The woolen thermal shirt hasn’t fared much better.

The only thing that’s remotely positive in this room is the shade of nacarat adorning the hems of the wool.

I glance to Link and find that his eyes were already resting on mine, his body now motionless.

“I’ll wash it and sew it tomorrow, okay?” I offer, gently trying to coax an answer from him.

Link gives a nod and it’s all I need.

I run the back of my hand over my forehead to wipe the stressed sweat that formed from performing under pressure. “Alright, uh… Do you have any painkillers? If not I can go to the general store again—”

His subtle nod silences me, and his lips part to quietly answer, “—throom. Bathroom.”

I mirror his nod before bustling to the bathroom, looking at the small wicker basket filled with random tinctures, elixirs, and other herbal remedies that he likely made himself from whatever he found in the wild. I have to sniff each one, unsure what exactly is in each small bottle, until I find an ointment with a sharp and pungent scent.

The tip of my pinky dips inside and I give a small lick, immediately confirming the bitter taste as my face wrinkles. _ Opium ointment—exactly what I need. _

By the time I’ve returned with the bottle of ointment, Link’s already dead asleep.


	14. Pitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you finally break.

Link was in a deep and exhaustion-fuelled sleep the entire time that I massaged the opium ointment into his back, around the spots where the arrows pierced and lining the lengthy, stitched side wound. I’d also slid his gauntlets from his forearms, taken off his leather boots, and peeled his trousers down his legs since they were sinfully filthy—not for any other reason. I’d undressed in front of him in survival situations as well, I tell myself, and I can only hope Link thinks the same. Besides, he’s still in his navy shorts.

As my hands travelled along his own back they felt small bumps or thin lines of scars, and in the low light I couldn’t make out their shapes or guess what caused them. It was the second time I’d ever felt his scars or seen them, the first occurring during a less than opportune time when I was minutes away from contracting hypothermia. My fingers delicately traced them, wondering how in all of Hyrule he could have so many; over his arms, his back, his legs, by his neck. Soon after my hand paused, resting along the smooth curve of his spine. With each slow inhale his body raised and then lowered again in a comforting pattern that I took the time to memorize. _ He’s breathing. He’s resting. He’s alive. _

While I put the ointment away in the bathroom, I picked the splinters from the pads of my fingers—such shoddy handwork went into those arrows, yet they still pose a significant threat despite how terribly-crafted they are. After I’d gotten majority of the splinters out and let small dots of blood clot where they had been, I worked on cleaning up. My exhaustion might as well have been two shackles around my ankles, considering how hindered I felt. The suturing tools were sterilized, the gauze and cotton were placed into the suturing kit as well, and I’d focus on cleaning the floors tomorrow when the sun provided ample light to do so.

I run a hand down my face in an attempt to wake myself as I shut the gate behind Epona and I. Like I’d hoped, she didn’t wander far and she’s no longer as frazzled, but she still needs to be fed, brushed, looked over for injuries, and unpacked from whatever trip Link was on. It’s impossible to stifle my yawn as I turn on the hanging oil lantern to provide some assistance in the pitch-black night. With all the commotion of earlier I had no idea dusk had fallen, yet I still have much to get done before I can even think about resting.

Just as before, I’m able to undo Epona’s bridle but with a bit more certainty this time around. I set her saddle on the fence against the wall of Link’s house, then fold her riding blanket over it. My arms and shoulders ache for some unknown reason and the best explanation I can give is that the tension from earlier has stiffened them without my knowledge.

No matter how lethargic I feel, my (E/C) eyes still comb over every square inch of Epona to be sure she hasn’t sustained any injuries. There’s none that I can see, and before I begin to wonder if I’m delusional and Epona really _ is _ hurt, I pluck the first brush of the set from their mounting on the wall. The feed I poured into her trough serves as a good distraction as I comb out all of the dirt and dust that’s built up, knowing she’ll need another wash sooner than later. Each time I crouch to run the brush along her legs, my own thighs begin to tremble incessantly—it seems adrenaline has taken its toll on me too.

However drained I feel, I won’t allow myself to slack when it comes to caring for someone else’s steed. I use the second, softer brush to run along her mahogany coat before beginning the never-ending task of untangling her mane. _ Seriously, what does Link put you through? These were braided just a few days ago. _

Though I’m not especially fond of horses, there’s still something calming about focusing on the silkiness of Epona’s mane, her eyes shutting when she trusts me so much. She’s practically asleep where she stands, and I feel about the same. After a few minutes I’ve gotten the knots and kinks out, and pull her woolen blanket specifically for the brisk nights from where it’s draped over the gate.

While I’m still in a place with moderate lighting, I tread through the hay to shoulder Link’s two saddle bags—I hear a rustle from inside and pause. _ Would it be a breach of privacy to...just take a peek? What if there’s something important inside that needs to be taken out? _I chew the inside of my cheek as I weigh my options before figuring that Link will likely never know I snooped—a dangerous assumption for me to make.

My curiosity temporarily overcomes the heaviness of sleep that weighs on my shoulders as I unbuckle the first bag: a waterskin, rations of his own, some apples, a pitiful roll of gauze, and a hunting knife sheathed in a thick leather cover. Nothing extraordinary there, I suppose. I set everything back in the bag the way I think Link had it arranged, so he won’t know I was rummaging through his belongings.

_ Now for the second bag_, I narrate in my mind as I unbuckle it and lift the flap. There’s nothing I can see in such low lighting, the oil lamp casting dim shadows that prevent me from observing the contents of the bag. I stick my hand in and feel around, though my fingers trace over nothing but tanned leather—

_ Ch-ch. _

A small clink reaches my ears, and not long after do I feel a small pack of what seems to be worn velvet. _ Why does it feel so familiar? _I grab the velvet pouch and fish it out from the bag, only to find that it’s a wallet. A lump forms in my throat as I upturn the velvet, drawstring wallet.

On the bottom are my initials sewn into the fabric.

_ This—this is my wallet. It has _ ** _all _ ** _ of my rupees in it. But how? How could he have…? _

The only answer almost brings me to my knees with impossibly heavy guilt. _ He went there. To the Bastard Camp. He got my wallet back from them, but… How did he know it was there? _ My breathing becomes thin again, and I have to remind myself to take an inhale. _ Link had to have followed me...otherwise he wouldn’t know where it was. Right? _

I hold the drawstring pouch in my palm, staring at it blankly. _ Link could’ve died trying to get this. _

_ ...Does this make it my fault? _

The thought echoes around my skull no matter how hard I attempt to shove it away, but then begins to accompany itself with equally negative thoughts. _ This was the reason I had to stay with Link in the first place. Now that I have my rupees, what reason do I have to stay? I can’t just take advantage of his generosity. _

_ Maybe he got your wallet because he wanted you to leave. _

I take a sharper breath at the last thought, dismissing it as nothing but my typical anxious musings. _ Link wouldn’t do something so unkind...would he? He may not be upfront about things he dislikes, and rather avoids mentioning them, but… That letter he wrote. He sounded so happy to have me stay. _

_ What did I do wrong? _

I sniffle when I realize that my eyes have begun to burn for the second time today, and I tilt my head back to blink it away. My hand runs through my (H/C) hair, brushing it from my eyes as I once again remind myself to breathe. _ Don’t be stupid—you’re exhausted after what just happened, not to mention all of yesterday. And when was the last time you ate or slept? More than a day ago. _

“That’s right,” I whisper aloud to myself, “it’s just stress. Don’t jump to crazy conclusions, (Y/N).”

I set my wallet back in the saddle bag and buckle them both shut before shouldering them and heading into the house for the final time tonight. The floorboards lightly creak under my weight as I step along the wood panels, trying to avoid the spots of mud, dirt, or blood dotting the surface. For now I just set the bags next to one of the legs of the dining table.

My own pack contains my clean change of clothes which I swiftly get into, not wanting to sleep with bloodstained sleeves or trousers. The chair I’d slid over to the bed sits in the same spot, next to the straw mattress—as comfy a bed as any, I suppose. I’m not about to kick him out of the bed, sleep in Link’s upstairs, or even leave him unattended; at least for the first night while he recovers.

I gingerly sit down in the chair with nary a creak, crossing my arms over my chest to at least get comfortable. As the minutes pass the quivering of my thighs return. To stave off exhaustion-induced anxiety I begin to bounce my leg, to no avail. My heart thuds against the inside of my ribcage and breathing is no longer automatic but manual. I can feel the muscles in my body grow rigid and stiff like premature rigor mortis, my jaw clenching. The wave of inevitable emotions begins to rise, and I’m shocked that the deafening thrumming of my own heart doesn’t wake Link when it’s all that I can hear.

I quietly clear my throat as I feel it tighten, my eyes water, my nostrils sting. The emotions bubble over not even a minute later, flooding my mind and rendering me mute as my body continues to shudder involuntarily. My hand stiffly grabs for the side of the chair and shoves myself forward, resuming my position from earlier with my elbows on my knees and my head down. I can sense the sob rising in my throat, causing me to tense my jaw in an effort to silence myself. _ When was the last time I cried? Not for six months, at least. I hate crying more than anything. _

This panic attack is unlike any I’ve had in the past year, its intensity peaking at a level I haven’t known in months. It feels like the world is ending but I’m the only one to notice.

The tremors travel to my arms and my chest, causing disrupting and unintentional spasms of my muscles—I have no gauge for how loud I am when all I can hear is my heart thumping in my chest. Yet even that dulls as a ringing resounds in my ears, like white noise but much less comforting. It’s like the world has been muted except for the high-pitched and incessant tone in my head.

I sniffle, noticing some tears that have dripped between my knees to the floor below—it’s not dark as pitch inside like it was outside, since the oil lamp fixture on the ceiling burns dimly enough to see silhouettes. I raise my arm to wipe my eyes with my sleeve, sniffling again as I try to bite back a sob. The worst part is that I have no control over it and I’m drowning in emotions flying past me too rapidly to comprehend.

_ Exhaustion. Relief. Anxiety. Uncertainty. Sickness. Terror. _

I don’t know why I’m feeling any of these emotions when all I need to do is sleep, yet this intense attack is hellbent on keeping me awake and suffering.

Something touches my knee and I flinch back, having to blink and wipe the tears from my eyes again to see what it was.

Link’s rolled onto his left side, facing me, one arm reaching out to rest a gentle hand on my knee.

“I-I’m fine,” I choke out, clearly lying as I sniffle and give another futile attempt to dry my tears. _ Why can’t they just stop? _More than the initial anxiety, I can feel my chest and face burn with humiliation that Link, of all people, is seeing me in such a state. I’d prefer a stranger; someone who doesn’t know me personally.

His eyes are open more than they previously were, an expression of concern written over his boyish, charming features._ I must look like a freak. Having a mental breakdown in someone else’s home. Getting my tears on their floor. I’ll be fine, I know it—it just needs to pass. It won’t last forever. _

“What’s wrong?” Link queries in a hushed voice, but I shake my head.

“N-nothing.” I sniffle again, ducking my head so he doesn’t see the stream of tears running down my cheeks.

“(Y/N)?” he tries again, his hand giving a light, reassuring squeeze of my knee.

I choke on my own tears and shortness of breath, clearing my throat to try and dispel the wave of nausea that comes with it. _ Stop crying. Stop it. You’re just embarrassing yourself. Link’s already injured and sapped of energy—he doesn’t want to deal with this. _

His hand slowly retracts and I use a hand to shield my eyes though my palm dampens in moments.

“(Y/N),” Link says, this time to grab my attention rather than ask a question.

I raise my head and am met with his left arm raised with the sheets over it, and I can only guess it’s an invitation under the blankets.

Once more he whispers, “Come here.”

My body gives in before my mind does, and I give a sorry nod before leaning forward to crawl under the blankets already warmed by his body. The straw crinkles as I lie down, now painfully aware of how small a twin mattress is. I don’t want to move forward anymore and encroach on the space Link needs, since he can only lie on his stomach or his left side. However Link immediately catches on and lifts his arm again.

“Closer.”

“Are you s-sure?” I sniffle.

Link nods and his hand lowers to rest on my shoulder, coaxing me forward with my head near his collarbone. When I’ve snuggled up more than I thought I’d be able to, my body still trembling, Link’s arm rests around my back and causes my heart to momentarily leap into my throat. I suddenly become much more aware of how my body tremors when he’s close enough to feel it.

His arm pulls me closer yet, my forehead resting against his collarbone in the protective embrace. “It’s okay.”

I give another nod and try not to be gross and sniffle, but it’s inevitable unless I want my nose to run. Like I’d done to him before, his warm, calloused hand rubs slow circles against my back. The slowness of his breath and the warmth of his touch already gives me a sensation to focus on other than anxiety. The uninterrupted beating of my heart begins to gradually weaken, no longer bruising the inside of my ribcage.

“S-sorry,” I try again after taking a small gulp of air. “I-I just—”

I cut myself off with another dry sob, raising a hand to cover my face again like I could simply disappear. Link shakes his head and I feel his chin rest to my crown, causing me to freeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “everything’s okay.”

I choke back another sob and at last manage to voice my thoughts in the form of a torrential flood. “I-I just—just didn’t know where you were, a-and, then when you were hurt I was just—just so _ scared that I’d lose you_.”

My jaw clenches as I take another shaky inhale, my hand finally lowering and coming back to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” Link whispers into my (H/C) hair, his hand on my back pausing only to pull me into a weak hug. “I should’ve told you when I’d be back, at least. I’m so sorry.”

Another sniffle can be heard as my body gradually begins to relax, the tremors coming and going in waves that grow further apart. After taking a breath to steady myself I continue, “And I didn’t know if—if I’d be able to do anything.”

“But you did. And I’m sorry you had to.” Link’s voice is low and calm, as gentle as his demeanor.

I shake my head and wipe my eyes one final time. “I-it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re...you’re okay.”

“I am, promise. Thanks to you.” I can feel Link’s lips move against the crown of my head. “But try to get some sleep for now. I’ll be here.”

“Okay,” I murmur weakly, allowing myself the guilty pleasure of snuggling closer to the warmth of his body.

I can’t remember when I fell asleep in the safety of his arms.


	15. Zaffre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you become the village's helper.

For the first time in two days, I wake up not with panic or in response to a loud sound, but instead in pure comfort and relaxation. My eyes blearily focus as I try to blink the sleep from them, and I snuggle down into the mattress and further against Link's warm body—

_ Wait. Link's holding me. We fell asleep that way when I was having that anxiety attack, and... Ah, shit. _

I have to take a slow breath to prevent another spike of anxiety, instead causing it to subside and become butterflies in my stomach. The fluttering feeling persists as I finally focus my sight, staring at Link's bared chest and the numerous thin scars running across it. I glance down against my better judgement to see him still in nothing but the navy shorts he was in last night, and his bare arms are looped around my back to keep me anchored close. Not only am I warm from our combined body heat, but also from the implications of such an intimate position; the blood rushes to my cheeks as my heart begins to audibly beat again. _ Why do I not want to pull away? _

I'm mindful of not fidgeting too much and waking Link, and I know he's undoubtedly drained after the crazy incident that was yesterday. My hands stay clasped over my heart as I peer up, only to be met with sunny blue eyes that render me speechless.

Link's eyes blink and mirror mine, his expression soft but tired. Subtle dark circles rest below his eyes. It only causes my face to burn more.

“M-morning,” I attempt to greet calmly as if he weren't holding me in such a protective embrace and I wasn't enjoying it so wholeheartedly.

“...orning.” His throat is still raw.

The thought that's in the forefront of our minds is the close proximity between us, but it seems we're both too shy to acknowledge it. Link's cheeks are dusted a cute shade of pink in contrast to his intense eyes, and his hands are still warm against the small of my back.

“How are you feeling?” I whisper, suddenly self-conscious of having morning breath.

Link gives a half-smile. “Like hell. But a lot better.”

That brings a smile to my own face and I clear my throat, reluctant to move away but knowing I need to check and change his bandages. I have to resort to a countdown in my head before I gingerly pull away, Link's hands brushing over my arms as if he's just as unwilling to let go. At least he can't make fun of my blushing when he's doing the same thing.

“Roll onto your back? I'm just going to check to see how the cuts are doing.” I sit on the edge of the bed and Link gives a yawn before following through, lazily turning onto his stomach.

The bright yellow (though stained) duvet is peeled back along with the soft flannel sheets that are still toasty. My hands slide along the skin of his back as they feel the deep punctures left by the arrows that I'd sealed with medical tape. It shouldn't be of any concern since it's thankfully clean, but if his skin doesn't fuse then I'll have to stitch it shut—an activity that neither of us seem to look forward to. On the other hand, I examine the deep slice that went through the right side of his waist, through the soft flesh just above his hipbone. The blood has dried in the cotton and begin to leech into the gauze, turning it brown near the borders.

“I'm just going to change the bandage on your side since your back is looking good. Then I'll start on breakfast,” I offer without any intention of letting Link help. He'll be resting for the day as far as I'm concerned.

Predictably, his head turns to give me a small pout. “I can help.”

“I'd prefer you didn't,” I joke before ruffling some of the fluffy blond hair on his head.

Before he can protest I reach for the suturing kit I packed up the previous night, and fish out the roll of gauze with some thick cotton. My hands are delicate as I peel away the bloodied bandage, some blood flaking onto the sheets. I'm hardly disturbed or repulsed by the sight though I can see the tips of Link's ears turning a ripe shade of pink in embarrassment.

The blood has clotted and scabbed, so I grab another clean washcloth to gingerly dab it away. My suturing job certainly isn't professional and some of the stitches are shallow from where I let my fear of hurting Link get the better of me. All in all, it'll hold so long as he doesn't engage in any hard labour.

“It looks good. No infection that I can see... I'll just redress it.” The process is much less painful and stress-inducing than it was the last time, and I give another pat to his head when I'm done. “Okay, now what do you want for breakfast?”

Link's head tilts just enough for me to see his eyes and quietly repeats, “I'll help.”

My disapproving look is all it takes to silence him and cause him to pout.

“My grandmother used to say that if you stick out your lip, then a cucco will bite it,” I chime as I pack up the suturing kit.

Link promptly sucks his lip back in, giving a grimace in response to my laughter. I shut the kit and move it aside before heading to the kitchen to see what I can make for breakfast. When I glance back to the guest bed, I can see Link's forlorn eyes watching me, akin to a kicked puppy.

“How does porridge sound?” I ask as I peer through the cupboards, standing on my toes.

He makes a sound of confirmation, and I smile over at the adorable man who I suddenly wish I could give the world to.

  
  
  
  


When the porridge is finished and steaming hot, Link gets to his feet and gradually shuffles to the dining table. I come and sit across from him not long after, though the same questions as l had last night burn in my mind. _ Where were you? What were you doing? Why didn't you tell me? _ For the first time, an awkward silence begins to form between the two of us as we eat. But maybe that's just me.

The words are on the tip of my tongue and I spoon more of the honey porridge into my mouth before I say something I'll regret. If Link's thinking about the same thing, he does an exceptional job hiding it. How do I breach that topic? My nervous habit of clearing my throat rears its head, and I slide my bowl away when I've finished.

Link's not far behind me, and nods to the saddle bags that I placed on the floor last night. "Thank you for bringing those in."

“Of course.”

He finishes his porridge and sets his bowl in mine with a _ clink_. I have to physically bite my tongue to prevent myself from asking what's in them, if only it means knowing where Link went and what he did for the past few days. Besides, I'd also like to have my wallet back.

He leans to grab one of the bags but I gently take ahold of his shoulder. “Don't bend, I don't want your side opening again—what do you need?”

“Can you hand me the leather bag?” he queries in his hushed voice.

I nod and do so, feeling a sort of anxious excitement when I hear the small clinks of the rupees in my wallet within. _ Please just tell me what happened. _ Link unclasps the bag and lifts the flap, dipping his hand inside. When he lifts it I can see the faded velvet of my wallet, and the bright, innocent smile on his face ruins all hopes of me telling my white lies.

I still give him an expression of gratitude and hold out my hands for it—the weight is the same as the day I lost it more than a month ago.

I sigh, “Oh, Link…” His ears droop at my tone, and I give a sheepish smile. “I'm sorry, but...I went through your bags last night. I know I shouldn't have snooped, but I was worried that maybe there was something important that would've needed to be taken out…”

Link's ears prick up again after my admittance. “That's okay, I know what you mean. I would've done the same.”

My shoulders drop in relief and I just now realize that his hands have been cupping mine that hold my wallet. I clear my throat before retracting back, as does he.

“But...how did you find it?”

Link gives a guilty smile, leaning back in his chair. “Well, um... You mentioned that you'd lost your wallet, and I knew it had to be before we met. You took Epona out that way too, so I explored all the camps just before Fort Hateno to find it.”

My lips part in awe. “But..._why _?”

He gives a bashful shrug before wincing at the pain in his shoulder left from where the arrow had wounded him. “I knew you'd want it back... I just thought it'd be nice.”

“How many camps did you have to check?”

Link looks reluctant to answer.

“Link.”

“Just two.”

“_Link_.”

“...Four.”

“I swear to Hylia—”

“Okay...six.”

I run a hand down my face with a groan. Link looks just as guilty, his smile more reminiscent of a grimace now. “It wasn't until the last two camps where, well…”

“You got hurt,” I finish quietly. He nods. “Why didn't you leave a note?”

His head drops a bit, possibly in shame. “I thought I'd be back the same day. I thought I'd surprise you.”

I sigh again, pursing my lips. “Well...I really can't thank you enough.”

“I'd prefer to apologize to you…” he mutters, clearly guilty.

“You know how you can make it up to me?”

“How?”

“By taking it easy for the next two days.”

Link instantly appears ready to protest, but then sulks when he realizes he can't. “But I have things to do.”

“Like what?” I scoff, knowing he just wants to get out of resting.

“I promised Ivee that I'd get her ball off the roof when it got stuck there by accident. Mr. Leop needs help moving around his furniture. Mrs. Clavia hasn't seen her cat in days. On Sundays I keep the buck population of Retsam Forest down for Mr. Dantz, and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Link's expression subtly says he's won, I'll have to let him do his chores. “In that case...write me a list of all the things you promised to do. And _ I'll _ do them for you.”

Link is thoroughly defeated.

  
  
  
  


Link's still lethargic despite how he pretends not to be, and dutifully writes up a list of everything he'd promised to do—it certainly seems that he's well known as the village's helper. I grab a wicker basket to place some of the things I'll need, like a fish from Link's icebox, a cloth, my bow on my back, and a rather heavy white box that isn't much larger than a book. Link asked me not to open it.

With everything packed, I began my busy afternoon.

I started with the easier things—Ivee's bright bouncy ball was simple to get off the roof once I'd climbed on a barrel, and she was ecstatic to finally have it back. She asked if I'd play with her, but I took a raincheck since my list was still full with a dozen items.

The chimney of the inn had been clogged likely by a build-up of charcoal and ash, so I once again hoisted myself onto the roof to inspect. I'm no seasoned chimneysweep, but what I didn't expect was the full bird's nest sitting three feet down, stuffing the chimney entirely. Needless to say, the bird and her eggs weren't exactly pleased that I'd uprooted their home. The mother bird flew away and chirped incessantly from the time I cradled the nest until I jogged over to Retsam Forest where it could be relocated safely. I thanked my foresight by bringing a cloth so I could wipe the soot from my face, though I'd still need a thorough scrub later.

It also brought me to the next task on my list, which involved shooting at least four bucks. After speaking with Dantz and settling the terms, I went to work. Any meat that I wanted from the bucks I could have—which would be a great contribution to Link and I, seeing as that I can't eat through four hundred pounds of meat before it spoils. The antlers would be a suitable material for carving cutlery, and the skins could be tanned, treated, and sold.

Leop was a kind man, bless his soul, but he was more indecisive than a Yiga Clansman presented with bananas in the middle of a duel. First he wanted the couch in one corner, and then the other, and then the coffee table in this room, but then back again, and this chair upstairs, this carpet moved, and so on. I'd broken a healthy sweat by the end of it all, and Leop thankfully offered me a glass of lemonade which I gratefully took.

Clavia's cat wasn't lost at all—she'd been sitting next to the occasional fisherman at Firly Pond and eating her fill after giving the fishers the most pitiful look imaginable. I let her dig into the salmon I'd brought and gave her some good scritches behind her ears and under her chin. After gorging herself with the salmon I picked her up and took her right back home, where she was warmly welcomed.

“Alright, final task,” I sigh as I brush the sweat from my forehead with the back of my sleeve, surely smudging more soot on my face and the lovely scent of fish. “Drop off the box at the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab…”

I turn on my heels and scour around, reading each shop's sign, but none of them are for a laboratory. _ It must not be in town_, I think to myself as I tread over to a portly young man in overalls who leans against the stables.

"Excuse me?" I call with a small wave, prompting him to stand straight. "Do you know where the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab is?"

He scoffs and shifts the piece of straw between his lips to his cheek. “That place? You'd be better off going somewhere...not there.”

That strikes me as off, but I persist. “That's not what I asked—where is it?”

My attitude has his eyes narrowing before he nods eastward. “Top o' that hill. Follow the lanterns and you can't go wrong.”

“Thanks!” I give him a sweet smile while he continues to gnaw on his handy piece of farmer's chewing gum.

My chipper tone is the stark opposite of how I feel when I lay my eyes on the herculean hill—I'm already exhausted, and I can't even see the lab from where I stand. It has to be at least four kilometres uphill, and I inwardly groan. I roll my shoulders and crack my neck before starting forward on what will will undoubtedly be a long hike.

  
  
  
  


By the time I've finally reached the Tech Lab, I can hardly feel my lungs for all the burning. What I wouldn't give for a drink of water. My thighs are more akin to jelly than flesh and bone, and I set down the wicker basket to sit on the ground. I huff and puff to recollect my breath, practically wheezing as I flop onto my back. The walk took just more than an hour and as a result the sun has already begun to set, its bright perimeter barely kissing the horizon. Its kiss brings forth a burst of rich hues such as reds, oranges, and yellows that are the only warmth in the brisk breeze at this altitude.

After regaining my breath I push myself to my wobbly feet, taking the basket again with the weighty white box. I've never quite seen a building like the one that sits in front of me, especially the burning furnace with a unique shade of zaffre flames. My curiosity draws me forward like a literal moth to a flame, and I reach a cautious hand out to feel the blazing blue fire. I'm not sure what I expected, since it gives off the same heat as your normal fireplace.

At last I pull my attention away in favour of knocking on what I assume to be the front door. I can hear a cacophony of chugging, clanging, and other indiscernible mechanical noises from where I stand. When no one comes to the door I raise my fist to knock again, only for the door to slide open and for me to be faced by a Sheikah man with his snow-white hair pulled back into a bun.

“Oh—sorry, hello,” I reply as I lower my hand sheepishly.

“Evening,” he greets kindly, his crow's feet showing. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, um…” I fumble for the note filled with Link's cucco-scratch writing. “I'm here for Link, he asked me to deliver this to a...Dr. Purah?”

“Ah, yes. Please come right in.” He steps aside to hold the door.

The inside of the lab is unlike anything I've ever seen, with as many autonomous parts as I have bones in my body. Everything chugs and moves independently, and a handful of people walk around with clipboards to document every detail. I slowly pivot as I step inside, mesmerized by the sight—who would've thought something like this was in Hateno Village?

“I'm Symin, one of the scientists here. And you're looking for Dr. Purah?” Symin questions, snapping me back to reality.

“Ah, yes, sorry—I'm (Y/N), it's a pleasure.” I hold out my hand for a firm shake and give him a smile.

“Pleasure's all mine. Right this way, please.”

I follow Symin and try to keep my eyes forward rather than sidetracked by every minute detail. He brings me just a few feet forward to a wooden workbench in the centre of the room, where a small child stands on a seat—I can only assume it's his daughter.

“Here you are,” he says, giving a small bow of his head before heading off. To fetch Dr. Purah, I presume.

I stand near the bench and peer around as I wait for the doctor, before a small hand waves in front of me.

“Heya!”

My eyes blink rapidly to focus and I take a half-step back. “Oh, hello.”

The little girl wears a set of thick-rimmed glasses and is absolutely petite—quite the cute little thing.

In her higher voice she queries, “Whatcha doing?”

I bend down to match her height despite how my thighs protest. “I'm waiting for Dr. Purah. I'm (Y/N).”

“Well hiya, Miss (Y/N). Has Symin gone to get her?”

“I assume so. What are you doing?”

She gives me a proud smile and gestures back to the mess of gears and miscellaneous parts spread over the workbench. “I'm studying the output levels and energy sub-types of a sample size of Ancient Cores to judge how they alter the effectiveness of their surrounding parts.”

I blink in surprise. Alright, apparently she's a genius too. “Aw, well... Isn't that adorable? You're such a clever cookie. I don't think I'd understand something like this no matter how many years I had. And here you are.”

She grins proudly, hands on her hips. “Here I am!”

I chuckle at her exuberance. “And how long have you been working here?”

“One hundred and two years.”

“...Huh?”

“In another four weeks or so.”

I blink. Then again. My head shakes, clearly dumbfounded. “I'm _ sorry_?”

She gives me a cheeky grin and holds out a teeny hand. “Dr. Purah—nice to meet you.”

I can feel my stomach sink like a boulder. _ Oh my goddesses. Oh my goddesses, she's the doctor and you were treating her like a little kid_. I don't need a mirror to know how deeply my face has flushed in humiliation.

“Oh my—holy goddesses, I'm _ so _ sorry,” I fumble, my (E/C) eyes now the size of saucers.

She just giggles as I slowly take her hand. “Don't worry, I just had to mess with you. You should see your face!”

I groan, my cheeks still burning as I give a pathetic handshake. “I really apologize, I had no idea…”

Dr. Purah laughs again. “It's quite alright, no one does.” She sits on the top of the table. “Now, what's up?”

After being thoroughly struck speechless, I scramble to grab the box and hold it out for her with a small bow of my head. “I was sent by Link to deliver this to you.”

Dr. Purah quirks her brow as she takes the box. “Oh? And why didn't he come?”

“He had an accident the other day, so he's resting.”

“I see. He's always been reckless. Now let's see how he's broken it this time.”

Her little hands deftly unfold the box, but I turn around to face away.

“Uh...what're you doing?” she asks, her tone playful.

“Link, um, asked me not to open the box. I don't think he wants me to see what's in it,” I answer over my shoulder.

“Pah!” Purah cries with a dismissive wave of her hand. “How could you miss something like _ this_? It's the pinnacle of our time, and ages past! Look!”

I hesitantly turn to see her hop down and walk across the seat of the workbench to stand in front of me, holding out what appears to be an engraved stone tablet. “What...is it?”

She adjusts her thick-rimmed glasses. “It's called a Sheikah Slate—the biggest feat of science since the Divine Beasts!”

I blink in surprise, though I have a hard time believing that something so small could be so amazing. The Divine Beasts are one thing, but this little brick?

“I can see your judgement. Here, let me show you!” Dr. Purah hops down from the bench as she prattles excitedly, motioning for me to follow her. “This thing can create explosives on demand, freeze and manipulate water, lift metal objects too big for a Lynel to push, and even stop _ time_.”

My eyes narrow a fraction. “Are you sure you're not teasing me again?”

She giggles at my skepticism as I follow her to another workspace further back. “Just watch!”

Purah turns the tablet over to its other side, which is a surface so smooth that I wonder if it's ice. Instead it lights up and the doctor navigates it seamlessly with clicks of her finger. My eyes widen incredulously.

“And...here!”

She clicks one final button and a small orb of light shoots out from the tablet, prompting me to flinch back as it hits a metal pen, its nib stained with ink. Strings of light itself attach themselves to the small metal, swirling along the surface. Purah lifts the tablet and the pen follows suit, levitating from the table.

My jaw drops open.

“Amazing, right?! It's called _ Magnesis_. It can lift up to four tons, we've calculated—now check this out!”

As swiftly as the strings of light attached themselves to the pen, they dissipate with a spark into thin air. Dr. Purah taps more buttons and this time an iron can holding pencils suddenly glows a bright shade of yellow—identical to the strings of light. After a moment it fades to be normal again.

“There. Now and try and push over that pencilholder.”

“Okay…” I reach out to lift it, but it seems entirely fastened to the table. I try again, then use both hands, but nothing moves it. My hand curls into a fist and I punch the tin, but it doesn't move an inch or even dent the thin metal. The pens inside are just as undisturbed.

“C'mon, you can try harder than that! Kick it!” Purah cries.

A grin of disbelief grows on my face as I lift my leg to give a sharp heel kick, and then another, but _ still _ it doesn't budge. At a complete loss, I gaze back to the doctor in confusion.

“No, no, don't look at me! Watch closely!”

When I look back to the tin can, it suddenly explodes—I duck with a small cry as it flies into the nearby bookshelf, pens, pencils, and graphite flying everywhere before raining down on us like confetti. The can clinks as it bounces off the bookshelf and then the table near us, before falling to the floor where it rolls away.

“What—_what_?” I exclaim. “What the hell happened?”

Dr. Purah just giggles at my reactions, which I can assume she doesn't see every day. “_Stasis! _ The Sheikah Slate froze the time of that pencilholder so when you hit it, it built up kinetic energy. When time resumes, it releases the energy in a single powerful burst. The stored energy of your kicks and punches sent it flying.”

The explanation goes over my head by a mile, but I nod. “Holy shit. You weren't kidding.”

“Nuh-uh! I never joke about science. Just people.”

She crosses the room again and beckons me to follow, stopping in front of a large machine that seems to grow out of the ceiling. A stone pedestal sits on the floor below it, glowing with what I assume is luminous stone.

“Now, let's see what he wanted me to fix…” Purah unfolds the note that was inside the box. “The camera rune hasn't been working correctly...let's take a look.”

She clicks through more of the runes and slides her finger along the screen, her brows bunched together as she inspects it. In a minute her expression falls and is instead replaced by her raucous giggles.

“Ah, now I know why Link didn't want you to see this!” she cackles.

“What? Why?” I question in pure confusion. She continues to laugh merrily, eventually subsiding as she wipes a tear from her eye.

“Oh, if I show you then he'll probably get grumpy and not talk to me for a month.” Dr. Purah sighs as she flicks back over to the 'camera' and turns the slate to show me. "This is the camera—it can make a painting instantly based off of what it sees."

“Sees? It has eyes?” I could only see the Sheikah eye on the back, but it was engraved into stone.

“Here, let me show you after I recalibrate it.” Purah hops up to place the slate into the pedestal, where it seems to have been made to sit.

It rotates before clicking itself into the pedestal, and the top half begins to glow as ancient text appears and drips down—as if filling the tablet with its knowledge. I feel as though I'm in a dream, watching impossible feats of magic rather than science. A small, luminescent drop falls to splash onto the Sheikah Slate, and it pops back up with a whir for Purah to take.

The smaller woman turns to show me the screen, which lights up and perfectly reflects the other scientists working from us some feet away. My mouth gapes in awe as it makes the picture.

“And if you click the screen, it'll capture exactly what it shows. Here, try it!”

She hands me the tablet and I immediately freeze up—what if I break something so valuable? Her hands settle on her hips as she bends forward. “You look like Symin when he sees a spider.”

“_Not funny!_” we hear from further away.

Purah rolls her eyes. “Anyways, you won't break it. Just take a picture of me by clicking the screen.”

“Okay…” I reply, unsure, as I take a step back and line it up until a smaller version of Purah (is that possible?) appears on the screen.

“Oh, one more thing! To take the picture, you have to say _ snap! _ Loud and clear.” She snaps her fingers as she says it.

“Um, alright…” I shift the slate and the petite woman resumes her pose while giving a peace sign. “Snap!”

The picture on the screen freezes, and I turn to let Purah see the now-frozen portrait of her.

“See! Now that picture can be kept or deleted. Let's get one of you to be sure the camera rune is fixed.”

“But haven't we already tested it?”

Purah pushes her small hands on the back of my knees, prompting me to walk for the front door.

“Wh—why are we going outside?”

“Well the picture has to be _ nice_, doesn't it?” she questions like it's the most obvious thing in the world as she steers me.

The sky is still a rich shade of gold and red, dulling to purples and hints of rich zaffre like the furnace earlier. The breeze has faded to a gentle whisper in the air.

“Why don't you sit over there?” Purah points to a large rock in the ground near the edge of the cliff, with the perfect backdrop of the sky. Some leaves from the nearby oak tree flutter by in the wind.

“Okay,” I say, figuring it's easier to be agreeable. I step over to the larger rock and brush it off before sitting down, hands on my knees. I fidget to get comfortable before resting my eyes back on Purah, who holds the slate.

“Oh, don't look so stiff! Loosen up!” she instructs with a wave of her hand. “Your getting a pretty picture taken, not lining up to be shot by a volley of arrows.”

“Will it hurt?”

She scoffs, laughing. “No, silly! Just smile! And relax your shoulders!”

I take a breath and do so, trying to be as natural as possible, but it's so strange to smile for something inanimate. My hand raises to brush some flyaway hairs behind my ear as leaves flutter by, the rich sunset painting the sky behind me.

Right as I tuck my hair back, Purah cries, “_Snap!_”

My face falls as I exclaim, “W-wait! I wasn't ready!”

“What do you mean? You look great!” She jogs over to me and turns the slate.

On the screen is a perfect imitation of myself—my nose, my lips pulled into a gentle candid smile that isn't too bad, my hand raised to tuck back some of my unruly (H/C) hair. My eyes reflect the orange light of the sunset that backlights the photo, some blurred leaves drifting by. It's like looking in a mirror.

“Whoa…” I breathe, thoroughly amazed by such a feat.

“See? I told you. And now we know the camera works, so there shouldn't be any more problems.” Purah turns the slate off and hands it to me, along with an envelope. _ When did she even have the time to write a letter? _ “And please give this to Link. Next time he busts something, I'll start charging.”

I set the Sheikah Slate in the basket and the envelope under it so it doesn't get caught by the wind. “Thank you so much—I shouldn't keep you any longer.”

“Pah, it's no trouble! It's Link who can be a pain,” she teases, though I can see she must care deeply for him.

“Alright, well...thank you, it was nice meeting you. I should head back.” The walk downhill should be less strenuous, but I don't look forward to it any more than I did while ascending.

I give a wave before turning to head back down the long stretch of hill.

“Wait! Wait, there's one more thing!” Dr. Purah calls from behind me, causing me to pivot on my heel. “Come here again!”

I can't help but chuckle as I tread back over to her, and she reaches into the wicker basket to take the slate.

“There's one more amazing thing this thing can do... It can warp you all across Hyrule!”

My brows knit together. “Okay, magnesis and stasis are one thing, but warping?”

“I told you I don't lie about science.” Her deft fingers click through more functions than I can remember, and up pops a map of what I recognize to be Hyrule. She touches one of the many glowing dots on the screen. “Now...just click that dot again and it'll take you there..”

Purah hands me the slate before I'm even ready for it, and I fumble before luckily managing to not drop it. “But—I can just walk!”

Her tiny hands plant themselves on her hips again. “No way, that's so boring. This is so much cooler!”

I hate to admit that I'm apprehensive. “But it was broken before!”

“Psh, only the camera. Trust me, it's the safest way to travel!”

“But—”

“No buts!”

Before I can think to react, Dr. Purah reaches out and pokes the screen to confirm the warp. I sharply inhale, looking at her in panic before noticing how my hands unravel like they're made of yarn. The strands glow the same bright blue as the machines in the lab, and pull themselves into the sky like I'm a marionette.

I feel nothing besides panic as my body unravels before my eyes, working its way up to my head until I'm blinded by the light.


	16. Xanthic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the lyrics are a little too real.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXq_J29V5Io  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4rKN_qW5DU

Throughout life, one can expect strange circumstances and even stranger occurrences. I’ve ran into bears, gotten into pointless arguments with Bokoblins, wielded my broadsword with oven mitts, and had a pack of wolves follow me without my knowledge. I’ve heard tall tales during my travels as well, everything from the fabled ‘Lord of the Mountain’ to ‘Blupees’ and even the Great Fairies. What I never once expected when I set out on this journey was for my body be unwoven like thread around a spool, only to be reassembled perfectly nearly six kilometres away.

But hey—at least life keeps me on my toes.

The first thing I do when I’m back in the flesh is stumble, my knees buckling from beneath me and promptly folding. I land on my bottom, dishevelled (H/C) hair in my face, still trembling like a newborn fawn.

As my breathing regulates itself, I peer over my shoulder and am met with a stone shrine that’s most impressive with its intricately carved runes and gentle blue glow. I’m right on the centre circle of the platform and as I spread my knees, I watch the soft glow dissipate until it becomes no brighter than the average stone. During my travels I’d seen shrines and gotten close to them, but almost everyone is forbidden from entry due to possible dangers, and also because the shrine itself refuses to open for anyone except holder of the Triforce, I’d assume.

_ I never knew there was a shrine right here in Hateno Village—but where in the village am I, exactly? _A second sweep over my surroundings has me realizing that I’m just tucked between some trees and overlook the wooden bridge I’ve crossed countless times during my stay.

The anxiety I previously had washes away as it dawns on me that I really _ warped _ with the help of this tablet in my hands. Excitement takes its place and I hurriedly jump down the small incline to jog across the bridge, my lungs feeling light with exhilaration. I wonder how many people have done what I just did? Or saw what I saw at the Tech Lab?

_ Who cares! _ my mind cries as my hair tangles in the wind and is combed back from my face. I’m still huffing as I swing open the door to find Link sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, and he turns to give me a soft smile.

“Link—!” I manage out, tripping over my boots as I kick them off and run right over, coming to a sliding halt at the chair. “I had no idea you had something so amazing—I _ warped _ back here with the Sheikah Slate!”

I can see that he attempts to look glad, but I know he told me specifically not to look at the white box’s contents.

“Dr. Purah insisted I try it,” I defend, “and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. But she showed me the—the—Stasis and Magnesis things!”

That gets his expression to soften, probably because it was only when Purah opened the camera that she said _ ‘Ah, now I know why Link didn't want you to see this!’ _

I hand the slate back to him and set down the wicker basket, resting against the thick arm of the chair. “She showed me the camera, too—she took a picture of me.” I’m practically beaming before I remember, “Oh, right—she wanted me to give you this.”

My hand holds out the slip of parchment that’s been folded into thirds and sealed with a dollop of plain wax. Link takes it and signs a _ thank you _ as he does so, unfolding it to read. His mesmerizing eyes scan along the lines of Purah’s note before they begin to widen and he drastically pales.

“Uh...Link? Are you alright?” I question, raising a hand to rest on his forehead.

He nods and soon enough the paleness fades, but is replaced by a faint pink that travels from the tips of his ears inward. The further Link reads the letter, the redder his complexion becomes. Though I’m aware that it’s hardly any of my business, my curiosity has my eyes drifting to the letter like a child attempting to cheat on a quiz. The only things I can catch are:

_ ...wouldn’t… ...nt her to see… ...mbarassing! Next time you… …’ll show her. _

Link folds the parchment along its crease, obstructing my view from the rest of it while ignorant that I even peeked. He leans forward just enough to toss it into the fire, where darkness spreads over its surface like a plague before turning black and dissolving into embers. He’s still extremely pink in the face, rivalling the day he accidentally caught me while bathing. I clear my throat before changing the subject, as adorable as he is when he’s blushing.

“Did you take it easy like you promised?” I ask, my hand gingerly moving to his shoulder. He gives a nod and sets a hand on mine, which I didn’t expect in the slightest. Yet such a casual and intimate touch fills me with warmth.

“I stayed here mostly. Had some water. Some bread. Put on a shirt. Took a short walk around the garden.” Link blinks up at me, erasing every thought present in my mind.

“Good, good… I know that was probably difficult.”

He gives me a look that practically radiates the sentiment of, _ You have no idea. _

“But,” I chime as I wiggle to get comfy on the arm of the chair, “since you did… I’ll do something to make it up to you. Okay?”

That gets his ears to raise by a fraction. “What do you mean?”

“A favour, or something.” _ Don’t make it sound like an innuendo, next time, (Y/N). _

Link nods and flicks his bangs back, thinking on it before I interrupt. “Do you still hurt?”

He gives a shrug and then winces when it tugs on his side.

“I’ll take that as a yes—let me grab more of that opium ointment.” I get to my feet and tread over to the bathroom, finding the glass bottle I purposely left out so I wouldn’t get it lost among the others.

In less than five seconds I’m back and Link’s just finished pulling his head from the neck of his shirt and sets it in his lap. He turns to allow me to apply some of the ointment and I inspect the wounds for the umpteenth time just to ascertain that they haven’t gotten infected. The pads of my fingers dip into the bottle before carefully massaging around the wounds. My touch is light, comparable to stroking a baby’s delicate cheek.

Link’s shoulders relax as I do so and hum under my breath like usual, still unable to come up with a reason for the multitude of scars that cover his skin. Rather than a drinking or work song, it feels more appropriate to hum the soothing tune of a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me more than a decade ago. His head nearly lolls forward as my hand trails down to his waist, mindfully spreading a thin layer of the painkiller across the delicate skin of his side.

“What song is that?”

I pause, blinking out of my reverie and giving a small sound indicative of me not listening.

“The one you’re humming.”

Unaware that he heard it (which is a stupid assumption on my part), I stammer momentarily—I’ve never sung in front of an audience nor do I plan to, since even the thought of it makes my knees knock. “Um… I can’t remember the name. It’s an old one, and it’s some kind of lament… The Guardian’s Lullaby? I think? Lullaby of the Guardians?”

Link gives another near-imperceptible nod. “It sounds beautiful.”

The despicably honest part of my mind pretends he’s talking about my singing, not the tune. “Yeah. I heard it a lot as a kid.”

Link breaks gazes with me. “I mean… I meant your voice.”

_ Wait. Mine…? _

It takes a moment for me to comprehend that he meant my voice, _ my _ humming, and not the lullaby. More importantly, I have to digest that the annoyingly hopeful part of my mind was right. When it takes longer than ten seconds for me to reply, Link shyly carries on.

“It’s, um...really nice. Relaxing. Do you know other songs?”

My face flushes like his did mere minutes ago while reading Purah’s letter. “I-I do, yeah. Pub songs, sailor’s songs, working songs…”

“Do you sing?” he asks innocently, his voice hushed and gentle like always.

I have to clear my throat. “I mean...yes, I suppose. I sing when I’m doing chores or while I’m travelling.”

“Do you sing for people?”

“Gods, no. My parents tried to get me to when I was young, but it’d always end in me crying. I couldn’t stand being in front of people and having to do something perfectly, y’know? I felt like people were always judging.” I’ve gradually realized that during this time, I have no longer been rubbing in the ointment but instead just massaging the muscles of his back.

He gives another nod. “I...heard you sing. That day at the lake.”

Link’s cheeks begin to darken from just the mention of it, and fortunately I refrain. I can’t afford to let the past worry me when I worry enough presently.

He quietly continues, “It was...really nice. If it makes you feel better, I thought you sounded amazing.”

Just that string of words is enough for my chest to tighten and my stomach to flutter. “Thank you… That’s very kind.”

“Maybe…” Link’s voice trails off, and I lean forward by just an increment. “...if you wanted to sing around here, then… Then I wouldn’t mind.”

The small invitation is all I need to soften entirely—how can someone as soft spoken as himself, who rarely speaks, manage to render me defenseless with just a handful of words?

“That’s...really nice, actually.” I actually find myself thinking about it rather than brushing the offer aside. “Maybe.”

  
  
  
  


Over the next week, I’d been so preoccupied with errands and assisting Link that it didn’t occur to either of us that the icebox was empty. It wasn’t until I opened it that I realized that the food left was...nil. Instead I asked Link if there were any local places to eat in the village, and he mentioned the local inn having a pub.

Later into the evening we both leisurely stroll down to The Great Pon Tu Inn under the darkening sky, since his recovery has gone swimmingly in the past several days. Link’s side has closed itself though it could still open if he’s too reckless, and the piercing wounds from the arrows have all but disappeared. For all the boredom I’ve put him through and reward for listening to my every word, I claim dinner will be my treat.

Link steps forward to open the inn’s door for me, which I sign a _ thank you _ for. The warmth from the inn practically knocks me over, and if that doesn’t then the music certainly will. A jaunty band plays on the slightly-raised stage, though all we can see are their heads when so many other patrons are bustling around in the pandemonium. I can hear the joyous cry of an accordion accompanied by a viola, cello, and maracas keeping the beat. Leaning against the wall behind them are more instruments that are well-used, ranging from some guitars to harps. The drunk cheering of the crowd keeps an identifiable rhythm, with raised, sloshing pitchers of beer and mead. Others sit around their round wooden tables or in booths, their pitchers still containing the foam from their pour. The atmosphere of the bar immediately fills one with the energy it holds, and brings a smile to my face.

I pivot to glance at Link, who I figured wouldn’t be a fan of such a vehement setting. Instead he just gives me a brilliantly dorky smile which sends me into some giggles. The light from the oil lanterns mounted on the ceiling cast a xanthic glow around us, only fuelling the cozy atmosphere. The sickly sweet smell of pale ales travels through the air and breezes around us as Link guides me to a table, since I’m already drunk from the stimulation of the environment.

He manages to find us an unoccupied table, by some luck, since it seems that the entire village plus some are here. I even see the odd Goron and a Rito who must’ve come from across the continent—they’re likely wanderers such as myself.

Link pulls out a seat for me and I thank him, resting a hand to his shoulder before I sit. He sits across from me, an oil lantern in the middle of the table as a centrepiece. Three menus sit on the table between us. I rub my hands together, already thoroughly infected by the mirth the pub holds. “Alright! Now, I promised that you can get _ anything _ you want. And as much as you want, too!”

He gives me a bashful look, a hand raising to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck.

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t hold back on me now.” I have to yell to be heard over the raucous cheers and laughter, along with the piercing tones from the viola. “When I said anything, I meant anything!”

No sooner does one of the innkeepers bustle over, a pencil tucked behind her ear. She wears a blue barmaid’s dress with an apron. “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in! It’s live music night, so it’s been crazy!”

I have to strain my ears to hear her. “Don’t worry yourself!”

“Evening, Master Link!” she calls, and Link gives a humble wave.

She gives a kind smile and brushes back some locks of her hair before grabbing a notepad from her apron’s pocket. “My name’s Prima, and I’m one of the owners of The Great Pon Tu Inn—what would you two like?”

My face drops when it dawns on me that I haven’t even taken a look at the menus, which are written with aged calligraphy over a sheet of sturdy parchment. “Oh, I’m sorry! I haven’t looked yet.”

“Don’t worry yourself!” she repeats to me, getting a hearty laugh from both of us. “I’ll come back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you!” I’m sure to call, and Link signs the same sentiment as Prima turns to head back to the pub’s counter. Empty pitchers have lined up which she sweeps away with elegance before cracking open another barrel of mead.

I pivot back in my seat, still giddy with excitement as I pick up the menu. _ Veggie cream soup, risotto, mushroom sauté, clam chowder, meat pies, gourmet steak skewers… _ There’s so much variety, and I haven’t had seafood in months. Just the thought of crab has my mouth water, and I’m positive it’ll be everything I hope for it to be since Hateno Village just sits over the Necluda Sea. _ Oh, but I want some good venison too. _

When I glimpse back up, I’m surprised to see Link with his elbows on the table, head resting in his hands, giving me a look I can only describe as endearing.

“What? I’m still deciding!”

His eyes just shut, his soft smile growing more pronounced. I sigh and trust that my face flushes from the heat of the bar and not the way he looks at me.

I set the menu down before questioning, “Do you know what you’re getting?”

Link sits up to use his hands to sign, _ The usual. _

“Just your _ usual? _I said you could have as much as you wanted, and I mean it!” I cross my arms indignantly over my chest, prompting a laugh from him that’s too quiet to hear over the cacophony. Either way, he gives a nod and I try to hide my pout.

“Okay...if you’re sure!”

Link gives another exuberant nod, his eyes beginning to mirror the excitement that mine hold. The deep and rich blues of his eyes meld with the yellowed, xanthic light to create a hypnotizing mixture. He raises a hand into the air to wave for Prima, who catches sight of it and hurriedly whisks through the crowd, evading the drunk patrons with a certain grace that leaves her without a single stain of beer.

“Hello again! Are we ready?”

“Yes! Could I please get the spicy prime meat and seafood fry? And some water, please.”

She hurriedly scribbles down the order for me, turning to Link. “And the usual for yourself, Master Link?”

For the nth time I ponder why everyone calls him _ Master_, but that thought is swiftly forgotten when he nods at Prima. _ Just how often does he come here? _

“Alright! Should be ready shortly!” she calls before disappearing into the thickening crowd.

It’s hardly five minutes before Prima steps out again, the crowd parting for her. She balances a tray on her hip with one hand, containing two plates. The other sanded wooden tray is held above her head, just the pads of her fingers perfectly balancing three more plates. I’m amazed by her decorum as she smoothly crosses the hardwood floor as if the pub were empty. _ That’s a lot of food. That group must be having a fun time! _

I peer over my shoulders to see what table she’ll go to with all those plates, my expression dropping as Prima simply steps closer and closer. _ Wait a minute. _ She bends effortlessly and lets the plates slide onto the table like she’s done this all her life (which she likely has).

“Okay, here we go! Curry rice, salted gourmet meat skewers, fried wild greens, simmered fruit, and a spicy prime meat and seafood fry. Just a moment until I can get you some water.”

There’s no time to reply before she’s gone again, and I stare at the plates in awe before gazing back up at Link, who has the guiltiest, cutest, dorkiest grin on his face. My skepticism stems not from the price, which I could care less about, but the sheer amount of food. I’d be lucky to even finish three-quarters of my own plate, much less four full ones.

“Wait—that’s your _ usual? _”

Link nods, grabbing eagerly for his knife and fork.

“There is no _ way _ you can eat all that!” I jest, his contagious simper causing my own to grow. “I’ll bet you fifty rupees that you can’t.”

I lean back in the creaking wooden chair and cross one leg over the other, my right ankle resting on my left knee. He raises one hand to sign before cutting into the steaming skewers. _ You will have to see. _

While I’m sure that I could banter with him for hours and never grow tired, the enticing and mouth-watering scent of my own surf ‘n’ turf serves to be quite a distraction. Following in suit of him, I take my own fork to part the tender pink skin of the salmon cutlet. _ It’s like butter. _

We have a conversation with our eyes as we eat, neither of us paying any mind to our manners. Some sauce smears the corners of Link’s mouth while I try to fit forkfuls into my mouth that are much larger than originally anticipated. We spectate drunkards dancing and spilling their drinks before glancing back to each other, our shoulders shaking with silent laughter and eyes twinkling. Link nods behind me, prompting me to peek over my shoulder at whatever drunken display caught his eye, only to turn back and find that he’s stolen the pickled radish from my plate.

_“Hey!”_ I accuse with my mouth partially full. My grandmother is surely rolling in her grave.

Link pops it into his mouth and gives a toothy grin. Just for that, I lean to steal a slice of caramelized peach from his plate of simmered fruit. That only gets him to grin wider when he sees that his deviousness has rubbed off on me. Some time while we’re eating a glass pitcher of water and two glasses appear between us, though Link and I are so wrapped up in our surroundings (and each other) that we fail to notice when Prima even brought it.

To my shock, Link’s been plowing his way through the multiple plates he ordered. His skewers are cleaned of every morsel, only four grains of rice remain on his plate of curry, and he’s more than half done his fried greens.

With a hand over my mouth to hide the fact that it’s full, I pocket the food into my cheek to yell clearly, “I can’t believe you _ actually _ are finishing them! You look like you’d be full after the first one!”

Link shakes his head, his own cheeks stuffed with greens much like a prairie rabbit. I chew and swallow my food before lowering my hand, and clear my throat. The pub suddenly becomes much quieter and I scour the room to see what’s gone missing, finding that the band has finished its playing. A rowdy applause comes from the crowd, Link and I included, as the viola player steps forward.

“We’re going to take a break! Open mic until then!”

Immediately a drunk woman steps onto the stage, nearly falling over the stool. A hush falls over the congregation of party-goers when the music recedes, instead becoming a hum of voices and conversations. My ears no longer ring and I can hear myself think for the first time in an hour. The woman begins to sing as I spin in my seat to face Link once more.

“Wow, I actually don’t have to scream anymore,” I joke, giving a small laugh.

_ Neither do I_, Link signs before that cheeky smile returns.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure that signing loudly is just _ exhausting_.”

Link nods sagely before melting back to his usual self and scraping the last of his greens together. He signs with one hand as he eats. _ How did your meal taste? _

The salmon on my plate is gone, save for some needle-thin bones that are always present in the fillet. My drumstick is still untouched, but my steak is mostly gone. “So good, oh my Goddess. I haven’t eaten so much in months.”

Another comfortable silence emerges as I sip my water, before Link taps the back of my hand and brings my attention to him for a second time. With both hands he signs, _ I know what I want my favour to be. _

The look in his eye already has the slightest bit anxiety settling in the pit of my very full stomach. People around the stage applaud and whoop as the woman from before steps off the stage, nearly falling from the slight drop, and Link’s lips curve into a humble smile.

_ I want you to sing. _

Just that phrase is enough for my heart to start beating heavily, and the air is sucked from my lungs. I suggest, “You mean… Isn’t there something e-else?”

Link shakes his head, clearly proud of himself. My (E/C) eyes drift to the now-empty stage, the pub having a much more social and calm atmosphere. _ Standing up there? And _ ** _singing?_ **

“Really? There’s _ nothing _ else you’d use your favour for?” I practically plead.

He must see my genuine fear because he reaches out to tap my hand again and bring me back down to Hyrule. Link’s other hand signs, _ I won’t make you, I’m sorry. _

Something about him retracting the statement is worse—my competitiveness and pride rear their head in the same instant. _ I can do something like this. After all, the pub has what, forty, fifty people? That’s not an outrageous amount. _

The part of my mind that I’ve tried to silence for the past few months emerges once more. _ If it’s what he wants, I want to give it to him regardless. _

I bite the inside of my cheek before returning to the present, his expression full of concern and regret for asking me to do something he knew I was petrified by. My thighs feel weak but I push myself to my feet, my hand sliding from his comforting one. Every step to the modest stage feels like a kilometre, and is it just me, or is the air thinner on this side of the pub?

The step onto the stage is the finalizing moment where it finally hits me that, _ Holy shit. I’m actually about to do this. _ I stride over to the unused guitar leaning against the wall, feigning confidence. While I’m no seasoned musician I know the bare minimum of chords and scales. One of my shaking fingers reaches out to strum as I lift it by the neck, glad that I won’t need to change the tone.

The frantic beating of my heart was so loud that I failed to notice the hush that comes over the seated patrons, surrounding their beer-stained tables with half-finished plates. When it dawns on me that I’m the reason for the lowered volume, I nearly trip over my own feet as I make my way to the stool. _ How am I supposed to sing steadily when my voice will tremble as much as my hands? What if I make mistakes? I haven’t played a guitar in years, I hardly know anything— _

I gaze up at the crowd, and one face clears every worry from my mind as easily as wiping chalk from a slate. Link’s expression is solemn but attentive, and I can nearly hear his gentle voice against my ear. _ You can do this. _

I sit on the stool and raise a leg to rest the guitar on before another man steps up beside me—I recognize him as the cellist from earlier. In a quiet voice, undoubtedly from seeing my thinly-veiled panic, he offers, “Would you like an accompaniment?”

The thought of another person on the stage, even if they’re behind me, relaxes me. I give a grateful nod and he heads back to his own seat, adjusting his cello. “I’ll follow you.”

Another shaky nod is all I can manage before I turn back to the audience in front of me, their faces seemingly multiplying by the minute. _ I swear there wasn’t this many people five minutes ago. _ I shut my eyes and taking a deep breath to centre myself, positioning my hands where I last remember them being for this song. _ It’s just me up here. There’s no audience. _

With my steadying exhale, I lip my lips and begin to strum.

_ “For starts... _

_ What a waste to say the heart could feel apart _

_ Or feel complete, baby _

_ Why would you make out of words _

_ A cage for your own bird? _

_ When it sings so sweet _

I’m steady so far, and focus on remembering the lyrics. The cellist behind me picks up the melody and begins a fitting harmony.

_ “The screaming, heaving, fuckery of the world? _

_ Why would you offer her name to the same old tired pain? _

_ When all things come from nothin' and, honey, if nothin's gained? _

_ “My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand _

_ It's how I know now that you understand... _

My muscle memory serves me well and I lift my head as I fall into the old rhythms. There’s only one set of eyes in the audience I can see.

_ “There's no plan _

_ There's no race to be run, _

_ The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun... _

_ “There's no plan _

_ There's no kingdom to come, _

_ I'll be your man if you got love to get done… _

_ “Sit in and watch the sunlight fade _

_ Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late _

_ There's no plan _

_ There's no hand on the rein, _

_ As they explained, there will be darkness again…” _

Link’s face shifts to a shade of red, his eyes unable to break from my own intense (E/C) ones. The lyrics are heartfelt and convey a meaning that I doubt I’ll be able to admit. They explain the perfect tumultuous motion that is fondness combined with the world’s nigh end—much like a short two years ago.

_ “My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand _

_ That's how I know now that you understand… _

_ “How big the hourglass, how deep the sand _

_ I shouldn't have hoped to know, but here I stand…” _

My anxiety fades as I lose myself to the song, much like I do when I’m alone with no fear of judgement. With a last repeat of the heartfelt chorus, the cellist fades to silence, leaving nothing but the strum of the guitar and the reverb of my voice.

The crowd gives a cheer, raising beers in good spirits and clapping. They still give a rowdy congratulations much like the live band before, though I hardly feel deserving of i after such a mediocre performance—but it seems that not everyone shares that sentiment.

I’m unable to pinpoint where the cheer begins, starting more as a bumbling murmur of _ ...ncore, encore… _before swiftly gaining traction with the inebriated crowd. With gusto the crowd begins to cry,

_ Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! _

Still high with the buzz of the previous song as well as the positive reception, my mind isn’t filled with thoughts of how quickly I can retreat—instead, I find myself asking, _ Why not? What’s the harm? _

When I sit on the wooden stool again another cheer erupts before they fall to a reasonable volume. The cellist behind me steps offstage to resume his break. With another deep inhale, I begin a song that’s much more mellow and perhaps even more transparent than the first.

_ “All the fear and the fire _

_ Of the end of the world _

_ Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl _

_ Happens grace, _

_ Happens sweet, _

_ Happily, I'm unfazed here, too… _

_ “Wasteland, baby _

_ I'm in love, _

_ I'm in love with you... _

_ “All the things yet to come are the things that have passed _

_ Like the old enough hands, like the breaking of glass, _

_ Like the bonfire that burns, in worth, in a fight felt too… _

The strumming is much slower but each note packs a gentle type of power, like a compelling whisper that it seems everyone is hanging onto. Again, with my cheeks slightly aflame, I meet his eyes.

_ “Wasteland, baby _

_ I'm in love, _

_ I'm in love with you _

_ And I love too, that love soon might end _

_ And be known in its aching, _

_ Shown in this shaking, _

_ Lately of my wasteland, baby… _

_ “Be still, my indelible friend _

_ You are unbreaking _

_ Though quaking, _

_ Though crazy, _

_ That's just wasteland, baby…” _

  
  
  
  


If only I could’ve recognized the look of pure infatuation he gave me.


	17. Viridian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which everything is easier with alcohol.

I’ve never quite understood the phrase ‘walking on air’ until just now. My entire body feels light and my head seems higher than the peak of Mount Lanayru. The claps and cheers are enough to deafen anyone, yet I seem to hear nothing at all. Not the cries for more or the stomping of heavy boots as a substitute for clapping—even Link’s face blurs in the surrounding commotion. The trembling of my hands is now from excitement instead of nerves, and the cries rise again.

_ More! Again! Encore! _

This time I have to give a shake of my head, never one for attention regardless if it’s positive or negative. As I begin to step down from the stage it feels similar to coming back down to Hyrule, and the breath enters my lungs while the fuzziness in my head fades. However, I’m stopped before I can leave the stage.

A tall glass pitcher of beer is handed to me, nearly the size of my forearm, causing me to glance up at whoever offered it. A built man with a thick, dark beard gives a crow and clinks his glass against mine. “As a thanks for the songs!”

I’m hardly used to attention in such a way, especially considering that I’m from a small farming community—such bold advancements weren’t commonly made. “O-oh, thank you—are you sur—”

I’m cut short by more tipsy cries from the surrounding patrons. At first I write them off as another attempt to get me to sing, and I can hardly make out what they’re saying. I hold the pitcher, dumbfounded, until the cacophony begins to come together.

_ ...ug, chug, chug, chug! _

Doubt flashes through my mind momentarily, but that’s all—momentarily. _ When was the last time I just let loose? _ A grin grows on my face and again I have a devil-may-care thought. _ Ah, what the hell! _

I raise the sizeable glass to my lips and tilt it back, uncaring of worries for just once in my life. The heady taste of beer fills my mouth, the pale ale giving a satisfyingly smooth burn as I down it. The crowd howls as I do so, and I don’t dare stop until I have the glass entirely tilted back and have drank every last drop. The burning warms my chest as I gasp as I lower the pitcher, raising my hand to wipe the foam from my lips. I give another cheer with the glass raised, and everyone follows suit with a deafening cry.

Already the alcohol makes my mind nearly swim, and I can’t imagine how I’ll feel in just an hour or two. The crowd lets me slide through as one group begins a drinking song, gradually having more and more patrons join in the jolly tune. The atmosphere is as infectious as when we first walked in, but now more so with the ale in my system. I snicker and give thanks to passing compliments as I make my way through the maze of bodies and back to the table Link and I shared.

When the last dozen people part I can finally see the fluffy head of blond hair that I’ve grown so fond of. _ That’s the alcohol talking_, I try to defend, but I know I can’t possibly be drunk already. I move to sit down, a hand reaching for my seat to steady myself as the noisy singing around us floods the pub. Link’s cheeks are still tinged an ambrosial shade of pink and his lips are slightly parted as I gaze to him again.

“What?” I tease with a grin, wondering what has him so speechless—or signless, I suppose.

Link blinks out of it, his cyan eyes focusing on me again before his own sly simper forms. I’m already well aware that his mischievous look can’t mean anything good, but he turns in his seat and raises a hand into the air with his index finger pointed.

Prima catches sight of and calls, “One beer coming up!”

That earns a hearty chuckle from myself, who muffles my mouth in anticipation of a belch. Prima dips a crystal-clear pitcher under the spout of a barrel, and with a squeaky turn of the cast-iron tap, spews the golden ale that everyone goes crazy for. No sooner does she set it on a plate with half a dozen others, handing them out to various party-goers and smiling in response to their drunk ovation. Prima smoothly walks over and sets a pitcher down in front of Link before moving on.

I snicker. “I knew you were a wine guy, but beer?”

Instead of being met with a normal sarcastic response, he lifts the impressive drink and takes a large swig of his own. I’m smiling stupidly as I watch him get in on the fun, until he takes another gulp, and another, and _ another_. My laughter is akin to crowing of amusement as Link similarly chugs his own beer at an impressive speed.

“_Yeah, Link!_” I cry, not nearly as conscious of my volume in the midst of such a rambunctious bar.

Like I did mere minutes earlier, he sets down his now perfectly-clean glass and wipes the foam from his mouth with his sleeve. His gives me his trademark dorky grin complete with the dimples in the corners of his mouth, which has me giving another howl of support for stupid decisions.

“You think you can keep up with me?” I joke, leaning forward to give a gentle punch to his shoulder.

Link just smirks and signs. _ Easily. _

My brows raise in shock and fake-offense by his challenge.

“Alright, then! If you think so!” I raise my hand with two fingers raised, signalling to Leop at the bar counter. “Two beers, please!”

He chuckles and shakes his head, undoubtedly entertained endlessly by the antics of such carefree youngsters. Link gives me a look that only be translated into, _ oh-hoho. _

“What?” I question innocently, “Think it’s too much for you?”

He shakes his head vigorously, blond hair swaying as Leop brings over the tall glasses. His movements aren’t as graceful as Prima’s, but I doubt that anyone’s are. I take mine with ease and raise it, giving thanks to the elderly man.

Link takes his own in hand but signs with the other, _ What should we toast to? _

Last time we had a toast he decided what it’d be for, so it’s only fair that I pick this time. My lips purse as I mull it over, my brows knitting together before I finally claim, “Us! No matter where we travel or what we do, we’ll always find each other again!”

That has his expression brightening and the tips of his ears raising as they often do when he’s contented. We clink our glasses together perhaps a bit harder than necessary, some of the foam sliding down the sides and to our wrists. After taking a full swig we set our pitchers down hard enough to make the table shake, both of us laughing without a care. I flick the foam from my hand before leaning forward.

“Anymore of those simmered peaches?” I ask as I lean on my elbows.

Link shakes his head, but pierces a candied cherry with his fork before holding it out. My (E/C) eyes nearly cross to focus on it, and perhaps if I wasn’t already tipsy then I’d have more inhibitions. Instead I lean forward to take the bite from his fork, my eyes locked onto his the whole time before I rest back in my seat.

“Mmm...pretty good. What else is left?” I peer over at his plate and scour over the fruits simmered perfectly in the sweet syrup.

I pluck another apple slice from his plate with a giggle, perhaps, feeling a bit devious myself. I pop it into my mouth and chew, enjoying the softened and sweet fruit. Some of the sugary syrup drips down my fingers, and with no hesitance I raise my fingers to my lips. My tongue swirls over the beads of sugar before I pull my finger back with a _ pop_, only to find Link gazing at me with quite a flustered expression.

“Ooooh, having naughty thoughts, are we?” I tease, still tittering at my own insinuations.

Link shakes his head and vehemently denies it, but the blush on his face says otherwise. If there’s one thing I’ve missed about alcohol, it’s the surge of confidence that it brings. It’s a wonderful feeling if one can learn not to be hooked by it, but playful flirting is harmless...isn’t it? After all, he was the one who fed the cherry to me first. I’d blame Link for starting it.

I have half a mind to ask if he’s overheating, until Link reaches his arms behind his head to grab the neckline of his viridian tunic and pull it over his head. His arms yank the fabric forward and it partially drags up his cream undershirt. I catch a glimpse of his moderately-tanned stomach and sides, then his back as he turns and shakes his head loose. His blond flyaways stick straight out with static while he throws the tunic over the back of his chair. When he turns back to me he straightens out the undershirt.

“Trying to give me your naughty thoughts?”

Link gives a nod, his bright smile too much to handle. I haven’t stopped laughing since I stepped off the stage.

“Too hot in here?” I playfully flirt, resting my head in my hand.

It seems the alcohol has gotten to Link too, since he replies with _ When you’re at the same table. _

Instead of blushing it earns an emphatic laugh from me. Flirting is so much easier when you have the guise of being inebriated. I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s so _ difficult _ to be as flawless as myself,” I obviously joke. “But I guess around you, I just can’t help it.”

Link raises the back of his hand to his forehead as though he feels faint, his eyelashes fluttering to really sell it.

I guffaw again and nearly give a snort. “You’re such a dork.”

_ The pot calling the kettle black_, he signs, still giving that stupid grin that I wish didn’t make my stomach flutter.

My jaw drops in mock-horror before my expression melts into another fit of giggles alongside him. To see Link so open, so uninhibited, has a powerful feeling filling my chest. _ I wish we could always be like this. So open and unafraid. _

We each take swigs of our beer while our teasing and flirtatious conversation continues, gradually leaning closer and closer—only because the din of our surroundings and the crowd is all but impossible to talk over. Sometime after we’ve finished the better part of our drinks, an enormous cheer breaks out. Link and I glance over to see what’s gotten everyone so riled up, to find that the band is stepping back onto the stage and settles down with their instruments. Unlike before, people begin to clear the floor before the stage and head back to their seats, save for a few. Those remaining smile and take each other’s hands.

_ I didn’t know there were dancing songs. I’d love to see what kind of dances they do. _ It takes me two attempts to grasp my chair so that I can turn in it, feeling remarkably dizzier any time I’m not sitting. Women young and old grab their partners as a jovial and upbeat tune begins, courtesy of the band. The viola and accordion carry the melodies that both complement and argue with one another, competing for attention yet perfectly synchronized. The heavy thumping of footsteps sends vibrations through the floor that practically commands everyone sitting to stomp their feet in rhythm.

Unable to help myself, I start clapping. Link joins in with me as people laugh merrily and swing their partners around, dipping them before pulling them close once more to sidestep. To watch this group of intoxicated strangers sing and dance so easily with each other fills my chest with a pure happiness that I’m sure I can attribute to the alcohol. My head is especially fuzzy after the second drink, and after reminding myself that I haven’t finished it, I take another swig.

When I feel a tap on my hand, I pivot to peer at Link.

He’s still smiling widely as we spectate the dance floor at the stage’s front, and signs for me. _ Want to dance? _

The last thing I would’ve expected from someone as reserved as Link is a dance, but while we’re both so intoxicated it’s inevitable that we take advantage of our lowered inhibitions and try something new.

“I can’t dance!” I cry over the music, unable to hear myself.

_ I can show you. _ Link’s undeterred by my response and gets to his feet.

“You know how to dance?”

He gives a sheepish smile and shrugs his shoulders, a hand raising to scratch the back of his neck.

As much as I’m compelled by the thought of dancing with Link, I momentarily am caught up in old anxieties—_what if I mess up? step on his feet? am too awkward? _Thankfully the alcohol does its job and melts those fears away, leaving me with an excitement too great to pass up.

“If you say so!” I take the hand he offers and get to my feet.

The room sways around me, as though I were in the centre of a spinning mill. The music rushes in one ear and out the other, and I while I can _ hear _ it, I’m unable to listen to it. All I can focus on is Link’s hand holding mine as he pulls me away from the tables and to the crowd. I trust that he’ll be my anchor as I waver like the tides of the Necluda Sea.

With a tug that’s far from forceful, Link brings me in front of him. The toes of my boots nearly step on his, but I know it’s rude to have a lowered gaze while dancing. I blink the beer-induced bleariness from my eyes as they settle on his, and I only just have the time to realize that he’s already positioned my arms for me.

Right about then I can feel a dull heat against my lower back, and I recognize it as his hand gingerly pulling me closer. His other hand clasps mine, held to the side. I’m clearly enthralled in my hazy state, my other hand partially looped around his neck. The soft tips of his blond hair tickle my fingers, and I give a giddy laugh that he mirrors.

The passage of time is incredibly warped while drunk, and so I’m unable to tell if Link and I stare at each other for a few seconds or minutes. Either way, it isn’t enough for me to memorize his face. _ His delicate cheekbones, his boyish and soft face. His bright eyes and dimples. His physique that’s so youthful yet hardened by something I can’t ask him about. _

Link steps forward slowly, prompting my own foot to step back. Our chests nearly brush against each other and I blink up again, noticing how our faces are less than a foot apart. _ I hope he doesn’t smell the beer on my breath. _ The heat of his body is shared with mine, the both of us heated with the alcohol in our systems and the energy of the pub. His fingers gently interlace with mine and I’m far from objecting, instead giving a small squeeze as we sidestep.

I’m completely mesmerized by his soft yet captivating expressions as we box step to begin with, still pressed against each other. We both fumble every odd beat or so when we’re in such a crowded area and far from sober. It only has us laughing and soon enough I catch onto the step, confidently keeping in stride with him.

That is, until he steps back and spins me. The bar blurs around me as my body moves but my mind is slow to catch up, and I when I gain my bearings I feel a comforting heat against my entire backside that I recognize as Link’s chest. I give a breathy laugh as we sidestep, his hands holding mine in front of my stomach as we step in tandem. Just when I’ve learned the steps and have gained the courage to lean back against his body, I’m unwound with a smooth motion of his arm. I spin outward but his hand stays on mine, only getting me to giggle more as we pull each other inward like magnets.

My chest feels as though it fits perfectly against his own, and it’d be impossible for me not to notice how our noses nearly brush with every step. It seems that Link is just as hypnotized as I am, and his hand on my back firms up. It keeps me against his body and there’s nothing I want more—this must be too good to be true. I tighten my other hand in his, giving my own indication of _ Yes, yes, please, closer, yes… _

It seems to work because with another step and accidental jostle, our foreheads bump against one another. The pounding of my heart in my chest feels like somebody else’s, a stranger’s, but not my own. Not when it and all my fears and worries are so far.

Link’s intense eyes are locked on my own as we dance without any space between us, held close and anchored to each other in our alcoholic haze. With another surge of courage, the thumb of my hand that rests around his neck begins to soothingly stroke his skin. I could swear that he makes a sound when I teasingly touch him, but even at our immediate proximity nothing can be heard above the din of the music.

Our dance feels silly, sensual, and like we’re both quite literally toeing the line between friendship or not. His eyes ask the same question as mine.

_ Are you also…? _

My lips purse as the thoughts flit around my head, my eyes scanning his for the answers. He does the same to me. It seems the both of us find an unspoken conclusion and we let go of each other. The intimacy that grew between us dissipates as soon as it was created.

I clear my throat as we gaze at each other, both flushed in the face.

“I… I think I’m done for the night,” I say as quietly as possible in such an environment.

Link gives a nod of affirmation. Wordlessly we cross the floor and tread back to our table, Link grabbing the tunic he’d thrown over the back of the chair. As he does that I fish my wallet from my trousers and head to the bar counter, where I pull out a silver rupee and slide it across the counter to Prima.

I’m sure she says thank you and goodnight, if the excitement on her face is anything to go by, but I can’t hear her words. With my hefty wallet back in my pocket, I stride back to our table. Something in my mind is rushing me, telling me _ hurry, hurry, hurry. _ I don’t know what for, but my body seems to be in agreement.

Link holds an arm out for me that I gratefully take, his foot tapping against the ground—we both have a sense of urgency, it seems. But for what? We wave goodbye to the patrons who catch us on the way out but spare no time for small talk like usual. Instead we both swiftly walk out from the inn’s pub and along the main street of Hateno Village.

The brisk air is a much ruder awakening than the warmth was when entering the inn, yet it doesn’t seem to be enough to bring Link or I out of our reverie. My mind still urges me, _ faster, faster, come on_, and my pace begins to pick up. Link’s does as well, like a dog when their leash slackens. We step faster and faster, traversing the darkness and soon enough the crunching of the cold grass changes into the padding of wood.

As we cross the bridge we keep our energetic pace, both of us seeming to be racing for something. Whatever compels us both to be back at home is beyond explanation.

Link fumbles with the door of his cottage only momentarily before we step in.

I don’t know who pulled who first, but our lips crash together the second we’re inside. My back thumps against the door as he presses me to it, both of us kissing each other with an urgency and passion we were too fearful to express before. Link’s hands hold my forearms as my own apparently went to his shoulders, both of us keeping the other close as if we’re at risk of being torn apart.

The light from the oil lamps is dim, enough to cast a soft glow on our features. My (E/C) eyes slide shut as I lean back against the cool wood of the door. A sweet sound of his, nearly a moan, greets me when I card a hand through his hair. His body pins mine to the door and before I know it, Link’s slotted one of his thighs between my own.

I give a shuddering sigh of my own at the movement, my fingers lightly tugging his blond locks when I first feel his tongue experimentally trace over my bottom lip. Eagerly I deepen the kiss exactly as he suggested, tasting the sweetness of the simmered fruit. His hands loosen and move from my forearms to my back, tugging me closer and arching my back. With a breathy sigh I regain my bearings before practically diving back into the fervent kiss.

It’s messy and a mix of tongues and clacking teeth, but we’re too desperate for each other to mind. Link’s arms hold me closer yet as his slightly-chapped lips move against mine. My hands lower only so I can wrap my arms around his neck, trapping him in my embrace and I in his. He gives another wanton sound that has my stomach coiling with a warmth I haven’t indulged in for months.

_ Would he ever be so confident if he weren’t so drunk? Would I? _For once the rational part of my mind tries to oppose, but after listening to the devious one for so long I can brush away the thought with ease. One of Link’s hands drops and runs down my thigh before cupping the back of it and giving a suggestive tug.

My foot lifts from the floor as I realize that he wants me to hook my leg, only causing the pit of my stomach to burn with more warmth than I thought possible. I wrap my leg around his waist and give a small hop before doing the same with the other. Link gives another breathy sound when my heels hook around his lower back, his hands just below my ass and keeping me steady.

I’m pinned against the door for only a moment longer before Link steps back, easily supporting my weight despite him having such a small frame. He carries me to the guest bed just a few feet away, laying me down and resting a knee on the mattress. My thighs squeeze his sides and I give a small gasp when I feel a certain hardness press against the heat between my legs. A sharp jolt of excitement hits me when I recognize it, knowing that I and I alone have elicited this reaction from him.

With a generous dose of courage, I roll my hips upwards. Link’s breath hitches and his head ducks, resting against my neck in embarrassment as his face burns. I, on the other hand, don’t want him to be ashamed at all. Again I roll my hips and tighten my thighs, and to my credit he _ reciprocates_. I give a subtle gasp as he grinds against me as well, and at last I have the motive to remove my arms from around his neck.

When I do so Link leans back, his expression searching mine for what he’s done wrong. Instead I lean up to give him another hot kiss, then fall back to the bed and lower my arms to yank my two shirts over my head. Link’s brows raise when he watches me, his eyes following my shirts being thrown over the side of the bed until they come back to my chest. I wear nothing but the black breastband he saw me in during that cold night more than a month ago.

He blinks and peers back up at me, but there’s no time for him to feel lecherous or improper before his lips desperately press to mine again. I give a more audible moan this time, spurring him on.

“_Link _…” I whisper in his ear, my hands moving to the bottom hem of his shirt.

He gets the memo in less than a second, his hands grasping over mine and tearing the shirt over his head. It’s forgotten easily and his bare chest presses to mine, separated only by my breastband. Link gains more confidence yet with the guidance and his fingers fumble before undoing the belt of his trousers and sliding them down.

A mischievous thought occurs to me and I’m compelled to act on it. The muscles of my legs tighten around him and I roll to the side, flipping him underneath myself. I fully straddle him, still feeling the pronounced hardness against my core. Link looks positively breathless in nothing but his navy underwear beneath me, and I give another hard grind of my hips.

“_Nnh_—” he groans, hands moving to my hips. The pads of his fingers press hard enough against my hipbones to leave pale marks. I rest my own palms to his shoulders for leverage before I lift my hips, allowing him to slide down my own slacks and kick them off.

We’re in nothing but our underclothes and I lean down to kiss him again, unable to resist. Link meets me halfway, resting up on his elbows. He gives a shy roll of his hips that has me inhaling sharply against his lips. I kiss him more fervently and roll my own hips down, knowing that I’m already damp from such anticipation. Our bodies move in tandem to provide a teasing sort of pleasure as we heavily make out, nearly forgetting to breathe.

I anchor my hands against his shoulders as he leaves a trail of searing kisses down my neck, and I work to continue grinding myself against him. The sharp pleasure brought by Link thrusting back is enough for my breath to hitch, and his fingers finally drift to the edge of my black underwear.

His touch burns but it pauses, as do his heated kisses, prompting me to slow down and eventually stop.

“Wh—what?” I question, deprived of air.

We both want each other desperately, we know we do, we ache for the touch of each other—but our minds have come back to us at the most unlikely of times.

“I… I can’t,” he whispers, blinking up at me. His hands drop from my hips.

Reality is a bitch as it settles between us, and despite our heavy breathing, I give a nod and lift my leg to stop straddling him. “You’re right.”

I lie down (read: flop) onto the mattress at his side, my exhaustion from my shot nerves catching up. Link’s hazy blue eyes rest on my own, and he takes my hand to pull me closer.

“Another… Another time. Not now,” he whispers.

I nod as I settle into the mattress. “Not now,” I echo.

Even as my senses and world are blurred, one thing is clear: the firm press of his lips to my forehead as I fall asleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone.


	18. Umber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which your emotions are laid bare.

_ Aching. Headache, stomach ache, muscle aches. _

They all hit me at once like the clap of a cymbal. My brows furrow together and only strengthen the headache with another pang, eliciting a low groan from me. My stomach churns as I roll onto my side and my tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. Whatever taste remains in my mouth, I’ve decided that I don’t like it. I let out a heavy sigh to relieve some of the nausea and finally gain the courage to crack my eyes open.

When I do, I’m met with the plain painted roof of the alcove just above the guest bed I’ve been renting. It’s completely flat save for the spot where Link dented it with his head when we first assembled the bedframe.

_ Wait. _ ** _Link._ **

My breath hitches in my throat as the scrambled puzzle pieces that are my memories of last night begin to reassemble. _ Shit. Shit shit shit. _

In less than a second my heart begins to pound, my anxiety only fuelling the sickness I feel from last night’s excessive drinking. I’m almost too nervous to glance to my side, where I can feel the mattress sink from another body. After I lick my lips to moisten them I slowly let my head loll to the side.

_ Fuck. _

He lays at my side, on his back much like myself. His arm is thrown over his face, and I can’t tell if he’s asleep or not. His chest rises and falls steadily while he breathes calmly, and after a moment of watching, a new realization dawns on me.

_ Wait. His chest is bare. Fuck. Please tell me we didn’t— _

My panic jumps up by another notch and I raise the sheets to glance underneath, finding myself to be in just my underclothes as well. I can feel my cheeks begin to burn and my chest starts to ache even more. _ Oh no. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _

The air becomes thinner as I try to sort through my thoughts—what even happened last night? I remember...singing. Singing, and drinking, and dancing, and drinking more… _ But then what? _ I run my hands down my face, peeking up at the dent in the ceiling through my fingers. _ We kissed each other. Well, more than that, it seems...but how much more? _

The next time I peer over at Link through squinted eyes, I find his own staring right back at me. I flinch when I see his sharp stare and lean further away under the sheets, as if he were a stranger. Link’s eyes shut and his arm rests back over his face, evidently blocking the sun from his own eyes and pounding hangover headache. His other hand raises to sign a half-assed _ good morning_.

“—orning,” I croak, my throat still dry. I still can’t stop my heart from pounding and my mind from screaming at me relentlessly. _ What happened? What did you do?! Ask him! Open your damn mouth and ask him! _

Link rests right where he is, seemingly unphased by the current situation. Then again, he was always excellent at masking any negative emotions he had. That doesn’t make it any easier to speak up, but after mentally preparing myself, I at last manage to say something of substance.

“Link,” I whisper, having to clear my throat a bit.

His arm lifts and his head turns so I know he’s listening. That only makes me more anxious and my palms clammier.

“What… What happened last night?” I whisper, as though there were someone else here that could eavesdrop.

Link opens his mouth and then coughs into his arm, turning his head as his body shakes. He nearly gags and evidently feels about as exceptional as I do. When he turns back and clears his own throat, his hands move to sign. His face begins to turn a familiar shade of pink.

_ We kissed. _

The confirmation has a mixture of butterflies and something less pleasant stirring my stomach. “Did we...have sex?” I ask timidly.

He shakes his head and signs, _ No. _

After such suspense I finally can breathe again. It doesn’t fix the situation but that makes it more bearable. My head rests back to the pillow and I again stare up at the blank ceiling as though I could find something of interest other than the dent. _ What now? What does that information help? It can’t take back what either of you did. What _ ** _you_ ** _ did. _ I rest my arms over my head and swallow thickly once more, feeling a lump forming in my throat from the anxiety.

“Did I mess everything up?” I ask to no one in particular.

I can hear Link turn his head and the sheets shuffle around his body. My own head lolls so I can meet his eyes. The dark circles under my eyes mirror his, and I curse that he’s still entirely attractive even after a hellish hangover. He shakes his head and raises his hand to sign, _ No. _

For whatever reason I can feel tears burn behind my eyes and I swiftly blink it away, writing it off as my emotions being too reactive. “Then why do I feel like I did?”

Link doesn’t have an answer for that one and lies on his back again, the both of us staring at the ceiling. Neither of us speak for a prolonged period and it makes me wonder if I should just leave and save face—which I can do now that I have my wallet back. Even the thought of it makes my heart ache. To my shock, Link speaks first this time.

“I—I didn’t want you to find out this way.” His voice is soft and sweet, still like the honey I likened it to months ago.

“Yeah,” I agree.

A long stretch of silence. I mull over how much I hate the effect his voice has on me.

“I can go.” The words leave my lips before I’m even aware that I spoke them.

He props himself up on his elbow as I fold the sheets back from myself and sit up. My head spins and it takes a moment for the headrush to fade before I swing my legs out from the covers. _ I shouldn’t make this more awkward than I already have. _ The hardwood is as freezing as always and I can see the rich, lacquered umber hue between my toes. Already a chill travels through my body. As I lean forward to rest my feet onto the biting floor, Link’s small voice reaches my ears.

“W—wait.”

I stop immediately like my body was waiting for that command. I don’t turn, my body feeling heavy as stone. It’s easier not to look rather than face such emotional vulnerability. After a moment passes and Link realizes I’m not about to face him, I can hear the sheets shift and I feel his own slightly-clammy hand on my arm. Only with his insistence do I turn around, my expression reading nothing but _ Please just let me go. I don’t want to do this. Not now. _

Link’s lips purse and he begins to sign rapidly, but his sentences are cut off, his hands fumble, and I can see the stress and overwhelming emotions mount.

_ Last night we—even though—I can’t say that—I really—please don’t— _

His fingers fumble and he gives up, exhaling heavily before he at last looks up. My own eyes are exhausted and filled with preemptive rejection. What we did was stupid and there’s no denying it. I should’ve known better than to ever let my guard down so much.

“_Please_, please don’t go,” he whispers, and the rawness in his voice snaps my attention back to him.

_ Right. This isn’t just about me. _

Link’s eyes search mine before he continues, “I know—know last night was full of a lot of poor decisions. And...no matter how much we both wish we could take it back, I…” I can see him struggle to get the words out, searching for the right ones. I imagine it’s difficult when his own anxiety is breaking through his barriers. It makes his fingers twitch and his words short of breath. “I’d take back those decisions we made if I could. But it doesn’t erase how I feel.”

That shocks me and I put an effort into preventing it from showing. My chest tightens but my mind that was previously so eager for his affection now wants nothing but to escape. “Feel about what?”

He turns his head away a bit, but I can still see the tips of his ears burn from under his blond bedhead. “My...feelings for you. I like you.”

The next inhale I take feels like pure ice in my veins.

_ My feelings for you. _

_ I like you. _

When I say nothing Link’s shoulders hunch slightly, like he could shrink away. His own courage renews mine and I manage to say something before it fades. “I like you too.”

Here I am, a grown woman, barely able to say three simple words. Just that small admittance takes a boulder off my chest yet fills me with a new, airy type of anxiety. It’s like a realization that’s hit me and only become real by speaking it into existence. I knew these feelings were here all along, for how long I’m not sure, but my refusal to acknowledge them only gave them more fervor. Letting the thoughts be free has them sinking in and maybe… Just maybe, I can learn to accept them.

Link’s cyan eyes meet mine again, and I don’t avert my gaze from his despite how my own face flushes darker. Luckily his cheeks do the same. I’m unsure what to do as I sit near the edge of the bed, a mussed nest of sheets around the two of us.

In a low voice I ponder aloud, “So...where does that leave us? What now?”

No response. I’m caught between a limbo of relief and anxiety, being thrown back and forth by wave after tumultuous wave. The most subtle of words or actions could throw me either way without a moment’s notice.

When I tune back into it, I see Link leaning in and towards me. I panic and with a sharp inhale, turn my head. He stops when I do such a thing and rests back, now just as unsure as I am.

“S-sorry,” I stammer before he takes it as a sign of rejection. “I have, um, morning breath… And am kind of...gross.” My cheeks burn more but to my surprise, I’m welcomed with the familiar and endearing sound of his laughter.

“Me too.” Link shuffles a bit closer to me and I do the same to meet him halfway. “So can I…?”

I nod. He gradually leans in again and this time, trusting him, I shut my (E/C) eyes. I’m unable to help a tiny flinch when I feel his slightly-chapped lips press between my brows. My heart begins to thump into overdrive once more as his light kiss lingers there, but my shoulders steadily drop. _ It feels so nice. The feeling of his lips against my skin is...comforting. Not as scary as emotional vulnerability usually is. _

After a few moments he pulls back and blinks, once again scanning me over to watch for a reaction. My entire body loosens, the tension leaving like a dam has broken. Like I’ve always wanted to, and with the ease that it had before, I let my body limpen. I rest my chin to Link’s shoulder and slump against the warmth of his body. Even when I’m so relaxed and exhausted, I still feel electricity spark where my bare skin meets his. I allow my eyes to shut and soon enough Link’s body slackens too. His arms wind around my middle and securely anchor me to his chest before he slowly shifts his weight to his tailbone.

He rolls back onto the mattress and brings me with him, my body half resting on his. The anxiety and adrenaline have left me feeling lethargic and like I could sleep for another day, even with the new fluttering of whatever...this is between Link and I. His upper hand rubs circles against the skin of my back that’s now raised with goosebumps after being deprived of the bed’s warmth.

I blindly reach out a hand to grab a sheet and throw it back over us. The world is so silent and tranquil in this moment; nothing beyond his cottage exists right now.

At least until Link gradually shifts my body off of his and back to the mattress. I’m unable to prevent the small whine that escapes me as he tucks the sheets back around my body. With a small grunt and shiver of his own, he gets to his feet.

“Where’re you going?” I ask, muffling a yawn.

“Just making some tea for us,” he answers in his hushed voice.

Too tired to speak, I raise my hand to sign _ Thank you_.

That always brings a smile to his face and he replies, _ You’re welcome_.

I don’t remember when I fall asleep, all I know is that it’s much more pleasant than the rest I got last night. I drift in and out of consciousness until I feel a gentle bump against my arm that rouses me. My eyes are bleary as I push myself up, my body ahead of my mind. When my vision clears, I see Link sitting on the edge of the bed holding two mugs of steaming tea.

His soft smile is enough to energize me for the day, but the tea is tempting too, I guess. When I lazily shove myself to an upright position and wipe the sleep from my eyes, Link hands me the mug of ginger tea. _ Perfect. Something to settle our stomachs. _ The tart aroma is enough to perk me up.

I sign another thank you before blowing over the surface of the tea to cool it. We drink our tea in the staple comfortable silence, and when the mugs are both empty, I scoot over and raise the sheets to invite Link back, much like he did to me a week ago. That gets his face to colour but he accepts, and we each tentatively scoot closer until we’re just across from each other. Our knees bump against one another, the sheets thrown over our heads.

Too exhausted to talk, we sign instead. I only break the silence when the correct signs escape me.

_ Thank you for the tea. _

_ You’re welcome. Thank you for staying. _

_ I will. _“...As long as I’m allowed.”

_ You always are. _

_ This isn’t my house. _

_ Maybe. But even still. _

_ Sorry… _“About being so abrupt. I don’t deal with...emotions very well.”

_ And I do? _

I snicker. “Touché. Being open is just…”

_ Scary. Like talking. _

_ Yes. Like talking. But… _ “I promise I’ll try to be more honest.”

_ Me too. _

“Actually, I… I won’t just try. I _ will _ be more honest with you.”

“I’ll be open and honest with you, too. Promise.”


	19. Claret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which you have your first real date.

Another two weeks pass with nothing out of the ordinary. Link and I both become painfully aware that neither of us really know what to do in a relationship, or how to take the next step—I haven’t been in a formal relationship in years, and I’m not sure about Link. We share meals and sign more, giving a few sweet nothings and light brushes against one another that have an air of intimacy. There’s no need to push for something that neither of us seem ready for, despite what the alcohol in our systems had to say that one night.

There’s pecks on the cheek while passing by, a few hugs from behind, and leaning against one another to loosely cuddle in front of the fire. One thing I can say for sure is that we haven’t gotten remotely close to the intimacy that we shared two weeks ago, and we both seem fine not mentioning it, either.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed, warm, and full. While I still adventure into the woods to hunt for game—either for supper or rupees—I’m sure to spend a decent amount of time at Link’s house. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt remotely settled, and it’s beginning to make me feel like a cucco in a coop. Link’s undoubtedly picked up on it and understands why I need to leave the house for hours on end.

It’s nearing the end of the afternoon when I finally arrive back home, two wild rabbits held by their feet in my right hand. The damn things are so painfully difficult to catch with a bow and arrow considering how jumpy they are, and I don’t have any snares to use. Without a clean shot through the head, the rabbits are good as gone. I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand as I trek up the slope to Hateno Village and then turn to cross the bridge.

After I’ve skinned the rabbits and cut off their feet to sell separately, I can package the meat to sell to the general store. Link surprisingly isn’t outside even though at this time he’s usually preparing supper, and even the coals beneath the cast iron pot are cold. I give a small knock before letting myself in, still unsure whether or not I need him to welcome me in—after all, this isn’t a permanent abode for me.

I step onto the welcome mat and Link gives me a sunny smile from where he stands near the stove, a wicker basket beside him on the counter with a cloth thrown over top. “Good hunt?”

“Yeah,” I answer, treading over to my pack to grab—I’ll be needing the butcher paper, sinew, and my knives. “Got two. Did you want a rabbit’s foot?”

Link comes over to look at the rabbits I’ve caught, which I hold out to him. “Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

I scoff playfully as I shoulder my bag. “Psh, not at all.”

Before I turn, Link asks, “Wait, um…(Y/N).”

“Hm?”

He seems to grow bashful and averts his eyes, which I’ve recognized as his nervous habit much like me clearing my throat. “Did you, um… Have plans? For tonight?”

_ Is he asking me out on a date? _Even such a common thing makes my stomach flutter, and my hands tighten their grip around the rabbit’s soft feet. “Sure, I mean—wait, no. I meant no, sorry.”

That gets him to laugh and his blush still colours his cheeks. “Well, you already know where this is going. I was wondering if you wanted to...go out tonight? With me?”

“With who else, silly?” I question, giving him a poke on the nose with my clean hand.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, Manny’s free tonight too.”

I snort at his joke and roll my eyes. “You _ know _ he has a thing for Prima.”

Link laughs before continuing, “But first I wanted to check if you had swimming clothes.”

That catches me off-guard and it shows, blinking for a moment before stammering, “U-uh, yeah. I have some that I bought from Gerudo Town a few months ago.”

“Great! Would you be ready in...another hour?”

“Sure, just let me take care of these rabbits quick and I’ll be ready to go.” I give him a peck on the cheek before I pass by to head back outside.

It’ll be hard to focus on the rabbits when all I’ll think about is what Link has planned.

  
  
  
  


“Ready to go?”

“Mhm, I took the meat to the general store. The feet will be ready tomorrow.”

Link grabs the concealed wicker basket that I saw earlier and rests it over his arm. “Are you sure you don’t need more time? I can wait.”

I wave a hand. “No, no, I’m fine.”

“...And your swimming clothes?”

“Already wearing them.” I give a small wink that has his entire face turning pink. Having this type of power over him is enthralling, even if I only use it for little evils.

I had the foresight to wear my Gerudo clothes underneath my normal tunic in case I’m unable to change later. When I’d first bought the two-piece set, I was concerned that it’d fit loosely or awkwardly considering that I hardly have the size or curvaceous figure of a standard Gerudo woman. Their tailors, however, are quite legendary. As such, it now fits me perfectly and I’ve never had an occasion to wear something so...provocative. Or expensive.

“Great—now drink this.” Link holds out a bottle with a cork, with a muddy liquid inside. It looks like soot dissolved in water.

“Wh—_what?_”

“Trust me, you’ll need it where we’re going.”

My skepticism shows and I don’t take it. “What is it?”

“A fireproof elixir,” he answers easily, swishing the dark contents around. “I already drank one. Should be good for a few hours.”

I hesitantly take the bottle and inspect the elixir, which I’m still not thrilled by. With a _ pop _ the cork comes off, and I raise it to my nose before Link reaches out to cover the bottle’s top.

“Don’t—it’ll make it worse. Just drink it as quickly as you can.”

“Gee, _ that’s _ reassuring.”

“I never said it’d taste good.”

My nose is still wrinkled but I take a deep breath, steeling myself to relax and mentally preparing myself not to throw up.

“...What’s in it?”

“Just drink it, it’s safe.”

“That’s _ not _ what I asked.”

Either way I sigh, shake out my shoulders, and at last raise the bottle to my lips. I drink it with a few large gulps, not allowing myself to stop and register the less-than-pleasant flavour. After the fourth gulp I nearly gag but finish it, pulling the bottle back as the putrid and bitter taste settles in my mouth. Link’s already prepared for this, it seems, and hands me a glass of water which I swiftly down.

I sign _ thank you _ with my other hand as I chug the water, the rancid taste finally fading. “You’re right. I don’t need to know what’s in it.”

That gets a laugh from Link, who waits patiently as I set the glass by the sink and come back.

“Okay, if there’s no more gross things you need me to ingest, then I’m good to go.”

He’s still grinning with that stupidly adorable grin and matching dimples, but shakes his head. “Then let’s head out.”

We step into our boots and head outside, locking the door behind us. I wonder why on earth we’d be needing fireproof elixirs when the brisk chill of the evening has begun to set in, and the elixir’s effect is already causing me to shiver. Regardless I tough through it as we cross the bridge, the basket still held over Link’s arm. As we walk I feel his knuckles timidly bump against mine, and knowing it’s the closest he’ll get to asking if he can hold my hand, I gingerly move my hand to intertwine my fingers with him.

Earlier I may have teased him for how easily he blushes, but it seems that I’m not that much different. I warm enough for the evening’s chill to fade as we turn and step through the trees to the dimly-glowing shrine that I’d warped to before. As the realization hits me, I feel a surge of excitement but also anxiety—the first time was quite the experience, though I’m sure my nerves just made it worse for myself. The intricately-carved blue and orange embellishments dimly glow in the darkening evening, and we each step onto the central pedestal.

Link lets go of my hand in favour of pulling the Sheikah Slate from his belt, and he taps through it to where I assume we’ll be going. _ It’s exhilarating to think that we can go anywhere in Hyrule at just the click of a button. But I still wonder, where did he even get that from? Why does no one else have a Sheikah Slate? _

“Here, you can do the honours.” Link holds the tablet out to me and breaks me out of my thoughts, prompting me to look at the screen and the shrine he’s selected.

I can recall the appearance of the ancient Sheikah runes, but that doesn’t mean I can read the name of the shrine we’ll apparently be travelling to. My smile grows a bit and I murmur a small thank-you, my right hand carefully wrapping around his arm while the other gingerly taps the smooth surface of the tablet, which the slate responds with an affirmative beep.

Similar to before, I feel nothing besides my own lightheadedness as our bodies gradually unravel into strings of light like fraying cloth, and the last thing I can see is Link’s eyes glimmer with excitement before I’m blinded by whiteness.

  
  
  
  


Just like before, reforming at our new location leaves me feeling a tad shaky and weak in the knees, causing me to grip Link’s arm more firmly. He gives me a reassuring smile as I gain my bearings, and I glance around to distract myself—dark and jagged rocks are all that can be seen, and I can hear a faint rumbling beneath us. The sky is much darker here, the sun having already set. Even so I’m practically slapped with a wave of heat that leaves me nearly breathless, and I’m suddenly glad for the elixir that Link brewed for me. Without it I’d undoubtedly be burning up.

I’m about to guess where we are until the rumbling I heard earlier begins to grow louder, until to my surprise, an adolescent Goron rolls along the path near us and comes to a stop. They unfurl themselves and stand up with a grunt, giving a toothy grin to us and waving a large hand.

“Hey, Master Link!” they call excitedly, and I look back to Link to see him give a wave as well. “What brings you here?”

Link raises the basket and gives a small shake, causing the young Goron to gasp. I say young, but they’re easily twice my size and four times my weight.

“Ooooh, a picnic! Well, lucky for you, the springs are pretty empty right about now!” they claim with a friendly smile before giving another wave. “Have fun, you two! Catch you later, Master Link!”

I’m unable to say anything, even if I wanted to before the Goron curls itself up and once again resumes rolling downhill. With a small gasp of realization, I let my hand slip from Link’s arm and tread to the rocky ledge across from the shrine. I’m sure to keep a safe distance away even as an even more intense heat radiates against my face from the bubbling lava below. The occasional spark rockets into the air, swirling before going out. A soft and nearly-relaxing bubbling can be heard from the glowing and deadly magma. As I peer beyond it, I see many cast-iron bridges and lopsided houses constructed from hollowed-out cave networks that must’ve been built centuries ago. I can see more Gorons as they leisurely walk about their town, some calling for customers at their stores and others simply humming as they stride along the (unsteady) bridges.

Link steps forward to join me, overlooking the city. Quiet enough for only me to hear, he questions, “Have you been to Goron City?”

I shake my head slowly, still speechless. The rising heat from the lava travels upward and even makes the stars and sky wobble in place, distorting some of the sights below. “No, never...I didn’t think I ever would, because I don’t know how to make elixirs.”

That gets him to smile and he once again takes my hand. “Come, I haven’t showed you what we came here for.”

A wholehearted grin pulls at my lips as he gives a gentle tug, coaxing me along as we tread up the hairpinning path. The rich, red rocks crunch beneath the soles of our boots and we meet a few more departing Gorons heading down the mountain. One is a _ much _ older Goron with a pale beard that nearly reaches the ground, and his much-younger grandson in tow. _ Would saying he’s ‘old as dirt’ be offensive? _

They each give a bow of their heads as we pass, giving the typical greeting that still confuses me.

“G’evening, Master Link.”

“Hi, Mister Link!”

He gives a kind smile and waves at them both as we continue up the steep slope, and rather than growing colder like one would on Mount Lanayru, it only seems to get heavier and hotter. The air is much thinner and the dampness is akin to breathing through a wet towel.

When the pair has passed I whisper to Link, “Why does everyone call you ‘Master Link’?”

He gives a sheepish shrug which I’m sure isn’t the right answer, but I’m not about to press it when we’re on our first real date—in fact, that entire thought is abandoned when we make it to the summit of Death Mountain—brilliantly blue pools of water are scattered across the levelled area, emitting thick steam that would conceal anyone bathing in them. I’ve heard of the legendary Goron Springs and their supposed ‘healing powers’ that come from the mineral deposits. If the salty smell in the air is anything to go by, I suppose the rumor is true.

“...What do you think?”

Link’s hushed voice brings me out of my awed reverie and I blink back into focus and shut my gaping jaw.

“I-I’ve never seen..._ anything _ like this in my entire life,” I breathe, completely honest.

That answer seems to suffice, and Link’s cheeks grow pink from more than just the sweltering air. Once again he gingerly tugs me forward and I put one foot in front of the other, completely mesmerized by the radiant blue pools that nearly rival Link’s eyes. We walk to one further away where we’re less likely to be disturbed, but even as I scour through the thick steam, I can’t see anyone else in the springs at this hour.

Link loosens his hand from mine to pull the cloth from the basket and flick it out, letting it flutter downwards and rest on the rocky and uneven ground which is undoubtedly painful to rest upon—unless you happen to be made of stone. He sets the basket down onto the plaid-patterned picnic blanket and brushes his hands off.

“Did you want to eat first, or go in the spring first?” he offers.

“_Definitely _ the spring—unless you’re hungry?” Which Link always is, more or less.

He shakes his head, blonde hair swaying as he reaches his arms back to pull out his ponytail. “I’ve always been told that it’s better to eat after swimming.”

Link’s response goes right over my head as his hands comb through the soft locks of his hair, shaking it out from the ponytail. _ Does he even know how distracting he is? _

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm—yeah?”

“You looked distracted by something.”

I scoff and playfully cross my arms before realizing that I’ll have to get undressed—which I’m partial to when my tunic feels like it’s stuck to me with my own sweat. “Yeah, and what do you think that is?”

My teasing gets his ears to twitch upwards and he swiftly breaks gazes, causing me to titter as his sheepish response.

I purse my lips before adding in a low voice, “You look really good with your hair down.”

Evidently too shy to respond, Link signs _ Thank you_.

My eyes lower to look at my belt, which I’ve been unsuccessfully fumbling with after having the realization that we’ll each be as bare as we were during the night of our (unofficial) confessions. Link seems just as awkward as he reaches for his shirt, and while I’m more than eager to watch, I instead give him some modesty and turn my back.

_ He planned all this for us, a beautiful night at the hot springs with a picnic for only us two. Maybe I could...give him a small reward? _My own boldness makes my anxiety rise, but I swallow it back. I flick my gaze back over to Link, who’s kicked off his pants and set them beside the picnic basket. He’s in nothing but rather tight-fitting navy shorts that reach his mid-thigh, and when he’s wearing nothing but, he turns to look at me.

“Did you change your mind?” he queries when he notices I’m still entirely dressed.

I clear my throat and shake my head, trying not to be distracted again—it’d be easier if he weren’t so handsome. “O-oh, no, I was just about to get undressed.”

He gives a nod before turning his back to me, giving me the same privacy I gave him. Instead I call in a shy voice, “Link?”

His head turns enough to hear me better but not to actually lay eyes on me.

“Turn around,” I request with a bit more courage.

Link hesitates but does what I say, though he keeps his eyes on mine and nowhere else. It’d ruin the mood if I explained what I was doing, so instead I use my body to convey my intentions.

My hands drift lower to grasp the bottom of my tunic and I gradually pull it over my chest and shoulders before flicking it aside. Link’s face begins to shift to a shade of pink and he again looks away.

“Link,” I quietly beckon with the sweetest tone I can manage. He shyly rests his gaze on me again, and even such a simple thing makes my heart jump in my chest—but his reactions are what give me the confidence to continue.

I reach for my shirt next and raise it even slower, keeping my eyes locked onto his. Link’s chest rises with the heavy inhale he gives. My back smoothly arches to display my figure as my arms straighten, allowing my chest to fall free. Again I discard the shirt to the side. I purse my lips before turning, my eyes giving a fleeting warning before I turn my back to him. _ Don’t look away. _

The muscles in my legs straighten and I firm up my ass as my thumbs hook under the hem of my trousers, and I slide them down without bending my legs. My torso folds forward with my legs extended, baring my scantily-clad behind courtesy of the Gerudo clothing designers. When I stand again I easily step out of pants and look back at Link, who swallows thickly in response. _ At least my striptease seems to have worked… He can’t be the only one looking good when we’re on a date. _I stand back up and subtly admire Link’s flushed complexion—he doesn’t need to say anything for me to know how he feels.

Link's hand raises to sign, _You are very pretty_, evidently flustered, before he turns to lightly hop down into shallower water. His body gives a shudder from the new temperature even though it only reaches his mid-thigh, and he circles back to me to hold out a hand.

Even his small, gentlemanly habits bring a smile to my face, and I take hold of his hand as I step down and into the water. It feels as though it sears my skin and I’m tempted to get out, but the brief flash of burning fades in moments and I’m left feeling pleasantly toasty. Link holds our hands above the water as we step into the deeper side of the pool, the steam so thick that our surroundings are foggy. The only thing I can definitely make out is the black sky above us and the glowing stars dotting the expanse.

The water splashes up our thighs to our waists, then to our chests and finally our shoulders. I let go of Link’s hand to lazily tread water, and his own long hair fans out in the water around his neck. _ He’s so handsome with his hair completely down… I should ask him to do it more. _

“So? What do you think?” he asks, his voice innocent and soft.

I’m unable to help my toothy grin as I bounce a bit in the healing waters. “I _ love _ it.”

His entire expression lights up like I simply flicked a switch, and instead of relaxation, I’m filled to the brim with excitement. I take an inhale to steel myself before diving under the surface, letting my hair and face become completely wet. My eyes stay closed to protect from the salt as I paddle a few feet before surfacing with a huff.

Link’s giving me his own dorky grin and as I wipe the water from my (E/C) eyes I poke, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so happy.”

“How could I not be?” I respond, completely genuine.

He just gives his trademark bashful shrug and floats back in the water, letting his thighs rise to the surface. I do the same before Link questions, “Can you do a handstand?”

“You mean, like, under the water?”

“Mhm.”

I chuckle and rest the tips of my toes to the rocky bottom of the pool once more. “I haven’t in years, but I used to be able to as a kid… What about you?”

Link gives me a cheeky smile from where he floats on his back before sinking his head beneath the surface. No sooner do his two feet stick out from the water, getting a hearty laugh from me. They waver for a moment before disappearing back into the water and he resurfaces.

“You show-off—besides, this is deep water! It’s harder in the shallow places.”

“Is that a challenge?” His cheekiness knows no bounds.

“Maybe.” Without giving him time to reply I propel myself under the water, pulling myself to glide along the bottom of the spring with long strokes of my arms.

When I pop up again and flick my darkened hair from my face, Link is nowhere to be seen—until the top of his head just _ barely _breaches the surface in front of me. His now dirty-blond hair sticks to his forehead as he slowly raises, and stops when only his eyes are visible. He blinks at me with his body still underwater save for the top of his head and eyes, which give a glimmer that can only be described as impish.

With a snort I dunk his head under the water and cause him to momentarily flail before he surfaces again, and flicks his head to the side to get his hair out of his face. Instead it just furls around and the other side hits him in the face with a wet _ thwap_. That only prompts more raucous laughter from me as he submerges for the umpteenth time to comb back his longer locks.

I take a slow and expanding breath before folding my body to dive straight down, then stick my legs into the air—the cold air causes goosebumps to rise on my calves and I can barely keep my legs upright before they’re kicking and I fall over sideways. This time Link’s the one laughing, dimly at first until the water drains from my ears.

“That one was just—just a warm up! Let me try for real this time.” I give a playful shove to his shoulder before sinking into the heavy and comforting water. My feet breach the surface while I walk my hands to keep my balance, and I don’t fall as quickly, but I can’t seem to pull my legs together. A snort of mine causes half of my breath to leave me in bubbles that race for the surface, leading me to follow them.

“_Bweh_,” I spit out a bit of water as I wipe back my hair. “How was _ that_, huh? Think you can do better?”

Link gives me that same daring grin as before. “Easy.”

Like before, he curls his body as though he’s about to roll in reverse beneath the surface but instead extends his legs. To my absolute shock, he only stutters for a moment before fully extending his legs and staying balanced. Just to drive the point home, he holds it for another five seconds to show me that it isn’t a fluke. The water splashes as he pops up with a sharp intake of his own, and I give another playful shove.

“Oh, whatever!” We’re both still grinning and across Link’s face is written, _ I told you so. But not saying it is so much more entertaining. _

I sniff indignantly and cross my arms, standing in the waist-high water. “Well I bet you _ definitely _ couldn’t beat me in a race.”

“Probably not,” Link admits.

I blink, not having expected that answer. “Where’d all your feistiness go? You had it just a second ago.”

He runs a hand down his face to rid of the excess water. “I know that I’m not a fast swimmer—but I _ do _ know that I have good balance.”

My nearly-pleading expression is all he needs to buckle.

With a sigh Link says, “Okay, a race. To where? The other side?”

I give a nod, cupping my hands in the sweltering water to splash over my face and untangle my hair. Even the slightest bit of streamlining can give you the win.

Link and I each match up where we are, bumping hips to make sure we’re at the exact same starting point before taking a few crab-steps apart. The water will be the deepest at the other end of the pool, unlike this shallower end where the water hardly laps against my bellybutton.

“Okay,” I say, rolling my shoulders, “Three, two, o—”

“Wait, is it on one, or ‘go’?”

“On go. Three, two, on—”

“Do we have to _ touch _ the other side of the pool for it to count?”

My shoulders drop as I giggle, staring over at Link who is suddenly chock-full of questions. “Yes, sure. You have to touch the other side to win. Any more questions?”

He shakes his head.

I try to stifle my grin so I don’t get salty water in my mouth. “_Alright_, if we’re ready. Three...two...one... _ GO! _”

My toes grip the rock as I push myself forward with all the strength in my legs, rocketing through the shallower water until it deepens enough for me to kick. Until then I move my arms in languid motions, my body waving much like a fish to give me as much distance as possible. _ Taking a breath will only slow me down—I bet I can make it without a breather. _I brace my lungs to conserve more air, if possible, and begin to finally give powerful kicks of my legs. While my arms may not amount to much, the muscle in my leg more that makes up for it. One of my hands extends forward to be sure I don’t bonk my head on the jagged rocks, while I use the other to assist with my gliding.

My palm slams into the rock and my head instantly breaks the surface, giving a gasp before crying, “_I win!_”

...Only for Link to stare back at me, unfazed. And already at this end. My expression falls.

“You—wh—_how? _ When did you—?” I’m completely baffled as Link smiles sweetly.

“I guess I’m faster than I thought.”

I narrow my eyes and gradually his smile begins to wobble. “Oh, really? Then let me see your supposed technique.”

“Sure!” Link agrees, resuming the position we had at the beginning of the race. My eyes are like a hawk’s as I scan over every bit of his scarred skin to find the secret. “And then I…”

He turns and hops out of the water, and I’m about to ask what he’s doing before he begins to sprint _ alongside _ the pool and hops back into the water at the other end. My jaw drops and I try not to guffaw as I dive under the water, and stroke back over to the shallow end. _ I can’t believe him! That absolute jerk! _

I only surface when my hands run into his biceps and I push myself up from the water, his hands moving to my elbows to support me.

“You _ cheated! _”

Link shakes his head, wet locks flicking back and forth. “You didn’t say we had to _ swim _to the other side.”

He’s grinning widely as I lightly shake him, as though I could knock some sense into him. “Oh my goddesses, that’s so dumb.”

“But I still won.”

“Did not!”

Link jokingly whaps me back and I splash him in retaliation, which only serves to begin the timeless game of seeing who can create the biggest wave. I spit salty water from my mouth and push back the current, both of us gradually sending bigger and bigger waves at each other. We giggle like children as we try to shove the waves in the opposite direction, before Link launches at me for what I can only assume will be his final attack.

I give a cry of surprise as his arms wrap around my lower back, and lift me when he stands in the shallow end with the water at his hips. My own hips are flush against his pectorals as he holds me above him, and I’m breathless as I stare down at him. There’s nowhere for my hands to go except for his shoulders, but I allow one to raise and tenderly stroke away his dampened bangs. With something as simple as a lift he’s rendered me speechless, and the energetic mood has completely shifted.

I swallow thickly as his arms loosen, allowing my body to gradually slip down but only until his arms are around the middle of my back, still keeping me slightly above him. The stars from above reflect in his eyes and I’m completely lost for words as I bend my neck so our foreheads bump. My hand that was resting on his shoulder loops around the back of his neck while the other glides from his forehead to cup his cheek.

It’s impossible to wait any longer before I press a gentle kiss to his lips, our bodies pressed tightly against each other. We haven’t shared a kiss like this since a fortnight ago, because we’d been too shy to evolve past the passing pecks. Link’s lips move against mine though they’re a bit unsteady, and it’s enough for me to know that he’s inexperienced. I don’t give a single damn.

One of his warm hands anchors the middle of my back to his chest while the other drifts up and over the strings of my Gerudo attire, resting between my shoulder blades. I part for a moment just to gauge his reaction and he does the same, but neither of us look remotely close to uncomfortable. Link closes the distance this time by lifting his head, and I kiss him sweeter as my heart begins to pick up speed. We have the same idea at the same time, both of us parting our lips only to deepen the passionate kiss.

My fingers card through his hair and a sound of appreciation leaves me as his tongue slides against my own—hardly intrusive, but rather careful and experimental. I let him do all he wants to grow familiar with the intimacy, eagerly reciprocating. Soon enough my legs instinctively curl up, my knees squeezing the sides of his hips. _ Just a bit more_, I wordlessly plead, and it has Link changing the angle of his head to become more dominant. It’s difficult not to smile but I manage, and decide to be bold in my own right.

I gently bite his lower lip and give a teasing pull, opening my eyes just enough to see his own lidded ones. I’ve never seen Link’s expression so filled with...romanticism, intimacy, longing, _ lust. _ His eyes are seemingly darker, more seductive, and silently command me to keep going.

Careful not to hurt him I let go, and he takes a few steps back until he sits along a rock shelf beneath the water’s surface. It keeps his chest and shoulders above the water, and I’m set down with my knees on either side of Link’s thighs and my hands on either side of his head. I swallow thickly, still searching for any sign of rejection—we haven’t done something like this sober.

There’s no denial to be found and Link raises his hands, the pads of his fingers a tad wrinkled from the water. His hands cup my cheeks and coerce me downward to kiss him again, which I obediently do. I allow my own hands to retract from the water’s edge behind Link’s head and lower myself to sit in his lap, entirely straddling him. My breathing grows heavier but it only spurs me on to kiss with more heat, which Link mirrors easily. For someone who was seemingly so inexperienced, he sure is a fast learner.

His lips break from my own, connected by a string of saliva for a moment before his lips are pressed back to my skin. Link trails kisses under my jaw and along my neck, his hands caressing my back and pulling me to him with need. My body moves of its own accord as I roll my hips against his own in response to the hickies he’s sure to leave. He nips harder than he means to when I do so and I gasp, hands tightening at his shoulders. I’m still mindful of his reactions and wait a minute longer, still shallowly breathing before I give another experimental grind of my hips.

It sends a weak wave of pleasure through the pit of my stomach, but this time Link’s kisses pause. The air between us is filled with uncertainty, and the silencing of my heartbeat instead fills my ears with the white noise of bubbling water.

“Sorry,” I breathe out, leaning back a bit. I sit down on his thighs so I’m not pressed against him as much.

His cheeks are still rosy as he whispers, “No, I’m… I’m sorry.”

I shake my head and tuck my hair behind my ears. “I shouldn’t have pushed that, I… I don’t know why I did.”

Link’s hands come from my back to slowly sign between us, too ashamed to admit what he has to say. _ I don’t feel ready for that yet. _

I sign back, _ Neither do I. I’m sorry. _

He leans forward to give me a reassuring and sweet kiss, too long to be a peck, but not as steamy as before. The only thing that breaks it is the rumble of Link’s stomach.

His blue eyes snap open and he freezes mid-kiss, causing me to snort and pull away. “Someone’s hungry, hm?”

He sheepishly looks away as I back off of him to climb out of the pool, watering pouring from my body. Link follows me to the blanket where we sit, dampening the fabric as we wiggle to get comfy on the uneven ground. I lie back to rest on my elbows as he flips open the basket, revealing slices of a crunchy baguette, creamed goat cheese, cherries, chocolates, and other foods that are hard to come by. Just like the first meal we ever shared together, I’m blown away. _ How does he afford this? _

I know better than to ask and ruin the mood, and as I called it, Link reaches in to pull out the tall bottle of wine we started months ago. The worn label of the plum Cabernet Sauvignon is the same fallow brown that I remember, and I gently take the bottle as Link grabs the wine glasses that he wrapped in cloth to lower their chances of shattering. He gives a shy smile that practically asks, _ Do you like it? _

_ Yes, very much. _

I uncork the bottle and tip it downwards to pour the rich, fragrant, claret wine into the glasses that we, too, shared months ago.


	20. Celadon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author makes a return during quarantine.

As the sweet wine fills our minds, we begin to lose our other inhibitions that kept us restrained before. We laugh and giggle to our hearts’ content while pouring more glasses, snacking on goat’s cheese, cherries, and chocolate. I hardly even remember what we talk about but we lean closer with each passing minute, resting in the damp and warm steam from the springs that feels like a blanket draped over our bodies. We gradually shift closer until we’re lying side by side with our shoulders touching, still joking and idly holding hands. It’s amazing to think that we’ve struggled to engage in such simple intimacies over the past two weeks.

But then again, it seems neither of us have been in a steady relationship—myself for a long time, and for Link...I can only assume never, since he hadn’t even jumped on a bed until a month ago.

Our swimming clothes cling to our bodies nearly uncomfortably, but thankfully we can write off our flushed cheeks as being a byproduct of the steam rather than the sight of each other. It’s well past midnight when the drunken haze begins to fade from our minds, allowing us to at least walk without falling—or so I hope.

I roll onto my side to face Link and murmur, “Hey, is it just me or is it getting hotter?”

“I didn’t think you could get hotter,” Link shyly flirts, causing me to snort and turn my head.

If anything, at least the alcohol makes us both more bold. “Oooh, smooth one. And you’re sure you were single before me?”

He gives a nod, his cheeks a pleasant pink. “Promise.”

With a small grunt he lets go of my clammy hand and sits up, running a hand through his own damp hair. “I think those elixirs are wearing off.”

_ Ah, that’s right. I forgot I even had to drink such a barf-inducing thing before coming here. _ I nod before pushing myself up too, letting the dizziness swim in my mind for a few seconds until it fades. My hands reach for the half-eaten baguette, wrapping it in cloth and putting the lid back onto the small ceramic pot that holds the goat cheese. Link busies himself with emptying his own wine glass and holds out my own. I give a cheeky grin.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.”

“Try? We already are,” he mumbles, his words nearly slurring. It’s adorable to see his half-closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and languid yet slow movements. Even someone as seemingly perfect as him isn’t immune to booze.

I down the last mouthful of the wine before handing the glass back. He folds the blanket and we gather our clothes, not bothering with folding the wrinkled fabric. Besides, raising a leg to step into our slacks would likely result in us falling right back into the hot springs. While Link takes the basket and his own tunic, I grab mine and throw the folded picnic blanket over my shoulder. I take one last look at the calming celadon waters before getting to my feet.

After giving an affirmative nod we take each other’s hands and interlace our fingers, raising our clasped hands to our shoulders for some sense of security as we begin the steep descent. Us holding hands isn’t so much for affection as it is for balance, our legs nearly buckling a few times as we tread down the sloped trail of volcanic rock. It’s difficult enough when the rocks seem to be shifting and swimming under our feet. Together we manage to have the bare minimum of balance required to keep us upright.

No Gorons are out as we head back to the shrine, the flat surface of the smooth and cool pedestal sending shivers up our spines, though it’s a relief for my own feet after stepping over sharp rocks.

I stare out at the dark night, stars dotting the expansive sky past even the silhouette of Hyrule Castle—another place I have yet to thoroughly explore. _ I wonder if Link’s been there. _

No sooner after I wonder does a soft blue glow emit from our bodies, which I recognize as us being transported across Hyrule back to Hateno Village. I blink lazily over at Link, but by the time I do all that I can see is his soft gaze meeting mine.

  
  
  
  


Normally landing back at Hateno’s Shrine (_Myahm Agana_, Link called it) is a relaxing feeling, with the weight of your body being slowly recognized by gravity as your toes lower to the ground. The weightless feeling fades without leaving you motion sick.

Yet this time it’s the chilled air that shocks us first, considering we were still covered in hot condensation and not wearing our clothes. It’s sobering, if anything.

“O-o-oh my Goddesses!” I cry, pulling the clothes over my arm closer to myself.

Link seems to share the same sentiment, his shoulders hunched, knees nearly knocking, and brows upturned as his teeth begin to chatter. The sight has me barking out a laugh before I take his arm with my free hand.

“Run, run, run,” I quietly chant. The night feels like needles penetrating my skin as we sprint to the safety and warmth of Link’s cottage.

Luckily the door isn’t locked and we step inside, greeted with a moderate heat that is preferable to the frigid temperature outside. The fire is low and Link sets the picnic basket on the table on his way by before grabbing some logs to throw on. He stokes the flames and sends a plume of embers into the air. After thoroughly wiping my feet off on the doormat, I similarly drape the blanket over one of the dining chairs and set my clothes in a wet pile next to Link’s.

Instead of the fireplace I go straight for the guest bed , practically diving under the sheets and curling myself into a worm. Link turns his head when he hears me fall onto the straw mattress. He gives a small chuckle and I notice the shivering in his shoulders has faded as he warms his hands.

Luckily I still retain some boldness even after the rude sobering we were met with upon our return, and I reach an arm out and whisper, “Come here?”

Link spares a glance to the fire just to make sure it’ll burn through the night before he treads over and sits on the mattress. It dips under his weight and I roll towards him with a light laugh.

“Join me?”

His brows barely raise, having grown more accustomed to some of these ‘couple things’ we take part in. Link says a quiet, “If it’s okay,” as he slides under the sheets.

Our nearly-bare bodies rest against each other before I flinch back. “You’re c-cold.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, trying to move back but I shake my head.

I’ve already warmed up under the sheets and rest my hands on his well-developed biceps, rubbing soothingly up and down to warm him up. “It’s okay. Body heat is a good idea.”

I can see him smile in the darkness as I repeat my words from months ago when we first met and he saw me standing outside his door, in the middle of a sleet storm. My hands continue to build friction and with any luck begin to raise his body temperature to something more comfortable. With a small hum I gently pull him forward, coercing him to scoot closer to myself.

I press myself to him and wrap my arms around his petite figure (though I’m hardly one to talk). Link stiffens momentarily from the rush of heat before practically melting, resting his own arm over my back. We idly stroke each other’s chilled skin until we must have fallen asleep.

  
  
  
  


A comforting heat surrounds me, not smothering but keeping me soothingly grounded as I wake up. My vision is bleary and my mouth feels dry from all the wine of the previous night, but I recognize the sensation of warmth as being from Link’s body. We’re still as entwined as the previous night if not more so, but my full awareness has me realizing the pleasantness of his skin brushing against mine.

I don’t move too much despite how my back is complaining for me to stretch, and I peer downward when I feel a slight tickle against my neck.

Link’s head rests on my breasts, his fluffy, downy hair tickling the skin bared above my breastband, collarbone, and neck. It’s more unruly without the ponytail to keep it at bay, but the sight of it could make my heart swell. To see him so relaxed, shallowly breathing with his lips slightly parted and his eyelashes nearly fluttering, makes every bit of my chest melt like caramel. He lies on his front, with half of his chest pressed to my stomach and an arm thrown over my waist to curl around my back. I can feel the small movements of his fingers underneath me and against my spine.

_ Could such a moment be so perfect? Is it right to feel this strongly after such a short time together? _ I refuse to let those thoughts ruin this moment of tranquility, and I raise a hand to card my fingers through his blond hair. He doesn’t stir as I pet his head before lifting my own off the pillow. I press my lips to his crown to give a soft morning kiss, my hand still playing with his hair without snagging any knots.

With the peck Link begins to stir, his eyes scrunching up in an endearing way before they lazily open. He stares ahead for a moment as he gains his bearings before his head tilts upward to meet my soft gaze.

I give a smile and a slightly-croaky, “Morning.”

He mirrors my smile before his mind seems to catch up to his body, the realization that he’s rested his head between my breasts dawning on him. Link pushes himself up to rest his weight on his palms as he hovers over me, the sheets crumpled around our hips and legs.

A faint blush tinges the tips of his ears as he manages, “I-I… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

I just smile and sigh, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back until I feel a few satisfying pops. Gravity makes me loosely flop back to the mattress before I reach my hands up and lightly rest them on his back, a small suggestion for him to rest again.

With the gentle guide of my hands Link lowers once again, resting his cheek to the soft cotton material of my breastband. “Don’t worry.”

We rest without a hurry or schedule to abide by, staying warm in each other’s embrace. My fingers gingerly straighten the knots in his soft hair as I continue to pet his head. His arms move back around me to hug my middle and his eyes shut.

_ When was the last time I was so still? So relaxed? _ It’s these thoughts I prefer over the other anxious inquiries. _ How long have we been here? A few hours, maybe… It’s past noon. _

_ How long have _ ** _I _ ** _ been here? _

Without pausing the movement of my hand I ponder the time spent here. _ Three months. I haven’t stayed in one place that long in at least two and a half years. I know I’ve been getting fidgety around here and Link’s noticed too, but... _

I frown unintentionally as I try to think of a way to work around the situation. _ I’m an adventurer by blood, now. Before I was too scared to set foot outside until Calamity Ganon was defeated but now I can hardly stay in one spot. Ironic. _

“What’s wrong?”

Link’s calming voice breaks me out of my thoughts and my lips curl into a soft smile. “Nothing, nothing. Just thinking, is all.”

One of his cheeks is squished against my chest as he rests there, arms still around me. I can see that he wants to ask what I’m thinking about, but he’s hardly a prying person. Link is nothing but a sweetheart to the core.

I exhale from my nose which causes his body resting on mine to lower before raising in the slightest with the next breath. “Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve stayed in one place. Been a few years at least.”

Link is quiet for a minute before saying, “Is that a bad thing?”

My eyes meet his and I lean forward to peck between his brows. “No, of course not. I love being here as long as you’ll allow me.”

That relaxes him and I feel his weight rest against my ribs again.

“But…”

Link perks up when I continue.

“But you’ve noticed that I get...antsy. Being in one place.” He gives a nod, knowing that’s the reason why I’m outside in the woods hunting or exploring so often. “It’s not you, not at all. Being with you is great. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy, truly.”

His cheeks turn the slightest bit pink, and I lower my hand that was combing through his locks to carefully brush the back of my fingers over his soft cheek. Link’s entire demeanor softens with words that are so heartfelt.

“I was thinking...what if I went on a trip?” I question out loud. “Not anywhere far, but somewhere I haven’t been before.”

As I muse Link adds, “You could use the Sheikah Slate.”

I blink down in surprise. “Oh, no. Sorry, but...half of the adventure is the journey, you know? I really prefer going there the long way. Even if it’s a hell of a lot harder.”

That gets a small chuckle out of the both of us before he suggests, “Would you rent a horse from a stable?”

I shake my head. “Everything around me just goes by so fast when I’m on horseback. I like to explore and take my time.”

It’d be hard not to notice how Link’s face falls the smallest bit even if he tries to hide it.

“...Will you be back?”

My hand pauses against his cheek and I blink to focus on him again. “Yes. Yes, Link. I _ promise _ I’ll be back.”

That seems to relax him just a bit and I continue, “Like I said, nowhere far. Maybe… Maybe Lurelin Village? I’ve always wanted to go there, and it’s only a few days south of here on foot…”

I ponder the idea, but the more I think about it, the more restless I can feel myself become. _ If I could go right now, I would—the entire world is out there for me to experience. _The obvious answer would be to invite Link to come with me, but I know he has his own life here. That, and there’s something serene about exploring independently. An indescribable feeling that just isn’t present when you travel with a friend. Not to say that I dislike company, I rather enjoy it—but overall I prefer to travel alone and on foot. To my own luck it seems like Link understands that exact feeling and isn’t taking it personally.

“When are you leaving?” he asks quietly.

I shrug. “Maybe...the day after tomorrow. So it’s not so sudden.”

“I don’t want to make you wait.”

A breathy laugh leaves my lips. “Link, you could never. Besides there’s no rush, so I can always stay here a bit longer if you’re okay with it.”

He gives a nod and turns his head to kiss my palm, an action that sends a rush of heat to my own face. Who knew that such a tender show of affection could elicit a reaction from me so easily?

“Always. How long do you think you’ll be?” he murmurs, pulling one of his arms from around my back so he can interlace our fingers.

“Hmmm… I’m not sure. A week? Week and a half? It’ll probably only take a few days on foot.”

“Two days,” he confirms.

“Only two?”

“Two and a half if it rains,” Link adds. “Which is common.”

It’s my turn to give a nod and I drag the pad of my thumb over his knuckles as we hold hands. “So yeah, probably a week and a half. You won’t miss me too much?”

His body shakes as he gives a short laugh, but doesn’t give an answer since I have likely picked up on it.

My chest fills with excitement at the thought of a new adventure, but there’s an underlying ache when I think about leaving him behind.

  
  
  
  


Link insisted that he make supper that night, but also knew that I wouldn’t sit around without helping. I stirred the broth in a pot over the stove as the cucco bones soaked along with plenty of herbs. Every few moments I would glance over to watch Link’s admittedly talented knifework, slicing carrots, pumpkin, radishes, and potatoes at an impressive speed. The blade was practically a blur as the vegetables were cut into perfectly square portions, and I have half the mind to ask how he’s gotten so good at using a knife.

Instead I’m drawn to the display and watch his slightly-calloused hands continue to dice the ingredients for the soup. When he sets down the knife and rubs the back of his hand over his forehead I offer a smile. “You’re amazing at that—you’ll have to teach me when I’m back.”

With the vegetables done I grasp the handles of the pot (though not without a towel) to pull it from the stovetop. I drain the stock through a strainer before getting rid of the cucco bones and wet herbs.

When I’ve set the pot down, I feel a pair of arms glide around my waist. I pause and look over my shoulder to see Link with his cheek resting to my back, his hands clasped in front of my stomach. A smile tugs at my lips as I lean back against him, and reach for the cutting board with all the vegetables. After slowly scraping them into the broth so I don’t get splashed by the boiling water, I grab a wooden ladle to stir. I wipe my hands dry before leaning back against Link’s chest, stirring the ingredients leisurely.

“What’s up?” I question in a hushed voice, turning my head. I can feel him shrug and it’s enough to pull a laugh from me. My hand that isn’t holding the ladle moves to rest over his clasped ones, giving a small squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Does it bother you?” His voice is small when he talks, but no more gentle than always.

“Does what bother me?”

“Me doing this?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. I just wanted to check and make sure nothing was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he assures.

“Link?”

When I use his name he raises his head, his chin hovering just over my shoulder. I lean forward to give him a sweet kiss on the lips, not chaste or too fervent. It’s a calm moment between us in the near-silence of the house. Link kisses back and shuts his eyes before we pull back, and I wordlessly go back to stirring the soup.

_ He isn’t the only one who will be feeling saudade. _


	21. Titian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which your vacation begins.

The morning of the departure weighs heavily on my heart despite my excitement to spread my wings and explore. When I wake up, Link’s already making breakfast and the smell of frying eggs wafts through the air. I can see the imprint left on the bed where he was laying, though now cold from his absence.

While normally he would sleep in his bed upstairs, I’ve noticed that he’s become slightly clingy, for lack of a better word. Not that it bothers me at all, if anything, it only serves to fluster and then comfort me. Standing behind me while I cook, accompanying me on walks through the forest, sharing the couch with me while I study more sign language, and he even had the courage to ask if he could share the guest bed with me. Who would I be to deny such a sweet request? I also swiftly learned that Link doesn’t move much in his sleep, but he tends to grab onto one thing and not let go—namely me.

His affections haven’t been lost on me and I’ve done my best to keep in stride with him. Whether it be picking him small flowers during my solo walks (which he always saves and puts in a vase with water) or lazily cuddling once the sun has set. Though it took a few weeks it finally seems this ‘couple’ thing isn’t as foreign as we originally thought.

I push myself from the mattress and have to admit that I hardly expected Link to be awake during such early hours. Travelling requires getting a headstart on the day, and usually being on the road by six in the morning. That being said, I tend to wake around 5AM to get myself ready and pack before moving to my next destination.

When he hears the bed shift beneath my weight, his head turns and he smiles at me. His hair lacks the ponytail that keeps it manageable, and his long blond locks fall behind his shoulders and over his back. I smile and as I stretch with a groan, sign a _ good morning _ with one hand.

My toes press against the cool wood of the floor before I force myself upright so that I can begin getting ready. Partway through a yawn I ask, “Why’re you up so early?”

Link’s smile softens before he turns back to the eggs he’s working on. “I wanted to see you off.”

_ Sweet as always. At first I was almost worried it was a front, after all—how could someone be so thoughtful and kind all the time? Yet it’s just who Link is to the core. _

“You’re so sweet—why didn’t you wake me so I could help with breakfast?” I tread over, my feet sleepily dragging before I press my cheek to the back of his neck, leaning a portion of my weight onto him. It prompts one of his darling laughs.

“I thought you should rest before you left.” His head turns to peek at me before going back to flip the eggs. “By the time you’re ready I’ll have this done.”

A pout curves my lips. “That’s not fair… Shouldn’t I help?”

He gives a quick peck to my cheek, which is answer enough for now. With a quiet “thank you” I turn and head over to my pack to prepare. Though it’s been months since I’ve run through my list of essentials, it comes back to me easily.

Bed roll, compass, map, a change of clothes, dried rations, waterskin, my wallet, my bow and quiver, shortsword, dagger, and spare clothes for bathing in the rivers. I was sure to stock up with what I needed at the general store the previous day. By the time I’ve used the washroom to change into my travelling tunic and slacks, true to his word, Link has plates with fried eggs and toast ready to eat.

I give a sigh as I head to the table, though before I can reach the chair, he’s already pulled it out for me to sit. His manners have my cheeks flushing and prompts a giggle. “You’re such a gentleman. Thank you.”

He gives a sheepish smile before sitting beside me rather than across the table like usual, though it’s been built to seat six people. Knowing it would only serve to embarrass him, I don’t comment on his closeness. Seeing him act in such a way is inadvertently guilting me into staying longer, though I know it’s hardly his intention.

We eat in a comfortable silence, knowing that with each bite my absence draws nearer. Perhaps it’s for that reason that we nibble at our food, not finishing until it’s practically cold. The toast has a firmer crunch and the yolks of the eggs are no longer runny. When the empty plates stare back at us, I take them both and stand after pressing a brief kiss to his forehead. I bring them over to the basin to wash, but Link’s at my side soon enough.

“It’s okay, I’ll wash them.”

“You sure? You already made me breakfast…”

He gives a nod and spares a momentary glance to my pack which sits by the door, serving as another reminder that our remaining time together is short. “You’ll want to cover as much ground as you can while it’s bright out.”

I know he has a point but it still has my shoulders dropping. _ Who knew that something I was so excited for would be so difficult to begin? _ With another peck to his cheek as I walk by, I head to the doorway. I step into my worn leather boots that have served me well during my trek across Hyrule, and pull on my heavier deerskin cloak that will shield my body against the wind’s chill that drifts down from Mount Lanayru in the morning hours. That, and keep me dry in the probable event of rain. Link comes over to take my bow and quiver, helping loop it over my shoulder and tighten the strap, then the same with my shortsword and sheath.

Even such subtle touches hold such a delicate intimacy that I can’t believe I lived without for so long. My gloved hand reaches for the doorknob and twists it open, stepping outside into the breezy morning air. The grass is partially frozen with dew and crunches under the soles of my boots.

I turn on my heel and for the first time, see an expression akin to sadness on Link’s face. His gentle and boyish features that are normally so peppy now seem solemn. It tugs at my heartstrings and I step forward to wrap him into my arms.

He holds me in his own embrace which smells like soft pine and the comforting scent of newly-fallen rain. Instead of rushing to pull away we stay in the warmth of each other’s arms until I all but force myself to stand back.

“I wouldn’t want your house to get any colder,” I try to weakly defend with a sordid smile.

“I don’t mind.” _ His way of saying he doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet. _

“I’ll be back in twelve days, I promise,” I reassure, raising my hands to gingerly cup his soft cheeks.

Link’s eyes avert from mine momentarily. “I know.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mhm.”

A heavy exhale leaves me. “I’ll be sure to bring something back for you.”

“You don’t have to,” he defends, but I shake my head.

“I want to.”

A somewhat awkward silence settles between us, both knowing we’re only prolonging the inevitable. _ I’ll be back in less than two weeks, so why is this so hard? I haven’t seen my family in years and don’t miss them nearly as much. _

“(Y/N)?” His gentle voice reaches my ears and I gaze back up at him. “Be safe.”

I nod and without any more words needed, he steps forward and rests his hands over my own. Link’s slightly-chapped lips press to mine, but this kiss isn’t as tame as the previous ones we share in passing. I part my lips and he wastes no time filling the entrance I’ve granted, tasting like the sweet jam that was on his toast. There’s a sense of longing between us rather than passion, and after deepening the kiss for a few more minutes, I can’t help but give a small laugh and pause.

As I whisper my lips brush against his. “I’m serious, I don’t want your house to lose more heat.”

I swear I see his ears drop just a bit. _ Does he know how hard he’s making it? _

“Okay. Bye, (Y/N). Please be safe on the way,” he murmurs. His soft voice will never lose its wondrous quality, and I soak in the words like a sponge.

“Not _ goodbye _,” I correct, “See you later. I’m coming back, remember?”

Link gives a sordid smile but nods. I’m unable to resist giving him one last chaste kiss on the lips before I allow my hands to slide from his cheeks. “I’ll be back before you even know it.”

The familiar twinkle in his eyes appears, and I step away while giving a small wave which he mimics. My feet haven’t felt so heavy since Link returned from the Bastard Camp with more than just the Bokoblin’s loot. I don’t turn back until I’m at the edge of the hill’s crest that leads from Hateno Village down to Ginner Woods.

What I’m greeted with is the small figure of Link who still stands in the doorway of his modest cottage. His arm raises to wave when he sees me look back, and I give an enthusiastic wave of my arms back. I purse my lips before pressing a hand to my mouth and blowing a kiss his way. _ I hope he doesn’t think that’s stupid. Because I feel a bit stupid doing it. _

Luckily for me, Link is a giant dork. I see him pretend to hop and catch it, causing me to break into a fit of giggles. “What a goof,” I murmur under my breath before I turn and finally depart for Lurelin Village.

  
  
  
  


The next two days are as peaceful as I recall my travels being. I bump into the occasional merchant who I share the trail with until a fork has us going our separate ways. According to my map I’m able to take a shortcut southward from Ebon Mountain, though I’ll be relying on my compass and the landmarks to guide me from here on out since there’s no trail cutting across the Dunsel Plateau.

By the first night I’m able to cover enough ground that leaves me at the northern end of Keya Pond, which is as good of a spot as any to rest up. After scooping and straining some pond water I begin to boil it over the modest fire which will serve as my warmth for the next twelve hours. I’ve spoiled myself by sleeping in a bed—the nights feel so much cooler than I remember, the chill seeming to seep through the seams of my favourite tunic.

The next morning an early shower begins that only gains traction as the longer I wait, so I slosh my way across the Dunsel Plateau and pray the water won’t soak through my boots. The day is remarkably more gloomy than the previous one, though that may be because there wasn’t another familiar body next to mine when I woke. The pines and deciduous trees are eventually replaced by tall palms that waver in the breeze and thick shrubbery.

Thankfully the rain isn’t too much of an obstacle and by the evening, I can see the never-ending waters of the Necluda Sea shimmering through the thinning jungle. The sight of it is enough for my heart to clench with excitement, but I know better than to run and exhaust myself—_ I’ll get there eventually _, I tell myself, a lesson which took me a good six months of travelling to figure out.

The rain becomes warm and the air humid, allowing me to shed my deerskin cloak and even my tunic’s first layer. Unlike a few months ago these showers are comforting and plaster my hair to my neck, though I’m still comfortably warm.

Lurelin Village is everything I had heard of and more—the palm trees sound like a waterfall with their leaves crinkling in the wind, some palm fruits have fallen to rest in the sand, and long wooden canoes sit in the still waters as fishers bring in their final catch of the day.

The titian sunset dyes the water captivating shades of blue and orange, dipping into yellows and deep reds. The Fishing Resort Inn is where I set up my temporary home, ready to begin a new chapter in my book of adventures.

During the next week I’m captivated by everything from daily life to the culture. The farmer’s market is filled with fruits I haven’t seen since Gerudo Town, plus some. The bright fabrics are hypnotizing and I’m able to make the acquaintance of a young woman who shows me how to weave them. Of course I try my hand at fishing though I lack the patience to do so—there’s a difference between waiting in the bush for the perfect shot at a boar versus sitting on a dock until your ass goes numb.

I chat with other travellers who frequent the area and learn of some unique places off the beaten path where I’m free to explore to my heart’s content, and even gamble with a few others at their ‘arcade’. The rules are much simpler than traditional gambling, but even so I’m able to pick the chest holding the treasures we bet on more often than not.

Yet through all of these exciting times, I know I’ll be looking forward just as much to returning to the place I now consider home.

  
  
  
  


It’s on the sixth day when a tall Rito man wanders through the doors of the Fishing Resort Inn just as I am about to head out to walk along Cape Cresia. I give him a friendly smile and nod before opening the door to leave.

“Wait, I beg your pardon—”

I pivot on my heel, somewhat surprised, until I realize that I am indeed the one he’s speaking to. “Oh—yeah? Did you need help with something?”

The tall, raven-like Rito turns and I see the satchel strung over one of his shoulders with envelopes poking out. _ Ah, he’s a mailman Rito—what would Hyrule do without them? _

“Yes, I am looking for someone in Lurelin. I’ve checked the residents and came up empty, so I’m trying the inn—do you know anyone staying here named (Y/N)?” He holds a cream-coloured envelope between his feathers. “If not, I can ask the staff when they return from the morning room service.”

I’m mildly surprised and figure it’s the semi-annual letter I get from my family explaining the events that have transpired in my absence, as well as paragraphs explaining how empty the house feels without me.

“What luck—that happens to be me,” I answer.

“Oh! Miss (Y/N)?”

“Yep!”

He swiftly hands over the letter sealed with a dollop of plain wax. “Here you are—now if you excuse me, I have more deliveries over at Lake Floria’s stable.”

The paper is slightly rough under the pads of my fingers and I give him a nod. “Thank you so much, and fly safe.”

The Rito gives a thumbs-up before disappearing out the doorway, leaving me to lean against the service desk and pop the seal of the envelope. _ It doesn’t look like the paper my mother uses… _

My eyes widen with pleasant surprise as I recognize the slightly-messy cucco scratch writing.

_ Dear (Y/N), _

_ I hope you made it safely to Lurelin and that you’re having fun. I’ve heard a lot about the fruit and fish market there, so you’ll have to tell me if it was as amazing as everyone says. I bet the beaches are nice at this time of year, too. _

I almost chuckle at the slightly-awkward prattling, practically hearing Link speak it to me. The familiar way he skirts around some things before confessing.

_ I wanted to send you this letter just to let you know I’m thinking of you. It’s been quieter around here. And normally that isn’t a problem, as you know. _

It earns a small snort from me.

_I’m almost not used to being in a house alone anymore. I’m used to waking up and seeing you there. I guess what I’m trying to do is be open and admit that I’ve <strike>actually </strike>_<strike>_been thinking_</strike>_ missed you a bit._ _I know it’ll be a few more days before you’re back but I have a surprise when you return._

_ I’m excited to share it with you and wish you a safe journey back. _

<strike> _ Lo _ </strike> _<strike> Sincerely</strike> Yours truly,_

_ Link _

My cheeks burn a bit brighter as I read and reread the heartfelt letter, feeling how genuine it is—how utterly _ Link _ it is. Small formalities and the places where he’s crossed out phrases and replaced them, which I can imagine him stewing over before he willed himself to be honest.

Lurelin Village is already sitting in a temperate region and yet I feel myself grow warmer, a tickling in my chest and stomach that I can’t seem to place. It’s only when my cheeks ache that I realize I’ve been grinning like an idiot in the middle of the reception area.

Tucking the letter to my front, I fast-walk to my room and perch on the edge of the bed. My eyes glaze over the carefully-crafted words again before hugging the parchment to my chest, mindful to not wrinkle it. I still feel pleasantly warm as I kneel to tuck the closest thing I've ever gotten to a love letter carefully into one of the pouches of my pack.

If anything I’m flattered to know that he’s been thinking of me as much as I’ve thought of him, and it’ll make the return that much sweeter.


	22. Calamine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Traversing the same path that I followed to Lurelin somehow feels twice as long on the way home. Of course my pack stuffed with souvenirs and a durian for Link and I to share doesn’t help, now quite a few pounds heavier than it was before.

Not only does my own excitement seem to slow the passing of time, but the rain during the first day proves to be quite the damper. To keep my mood up I simply think of Link and what surprise he could possibly have planned upon my return—_is it a gift? a place? _The possibilities whirl around my head and send butterflies directly to my stomach, where they flutter and tickle with each step I take.

The second day of travel is when I begin to pick up my pace, not jogging though not exactly walking, either. I simply can’t help it—surprises make me supremely giddy and impatient once I know one is coming. I attempt to soothe my other thoughts of Link as I head through the dense woods, but after a few hours I realize it’s a losing battle.

_ I can’t want to kiss him again. I want to feel the heat of him next to me as we fall asleep under the blankets. I want to be held in his embrace. I want to goof around while we cook and make idle conversation. _

My cheeks grow ever warmer and yet it’s these thoughts that are the key to making time fly by. Before I know it, just as the sky begins to grow dark and the evening sun sets, I can see the stone lanterns of Hateno Village lit with blue flames. My legs feel like jelly from quickening my pace after I met back up with Ebon Mountain’s western trail. The sight of the welcoming flames only spurs me on and I find a reserve of energy I didn’t even know I had, hurrying my pace until I’ve begun to jog.

All the exhaustion I had felt during the day dissipates—my excitement has taken over and I can feel my heart squeeze in my chest as I run up the slope to Hateno Village. I give a small wave to Nebb and Narah who are similarly running home after a day of playing. When I turn to walk across the bridge, I take a deep breath to calm myself. _ Why the hell am I so thrilled? _I’m sure to check that my jog hasn’t made me sweaty and that I’m still somewhat pleasant.

The latticework above the door casts a faint shadow over me as I lightly knock on the door. My stomach does flips as I wait, though it’s not even three seconds until the door swings open.

Link sweeps me up in his arms, prompting me to give a great laugh as I similarly give him a squeeze. I only giggle harder as he straightens his back, causing me to lift from the ground until my toes are an inch from the dirt. He sways my body back and forth in gentle motions and I keep his head tucked against my chest as I’m held in his embrace. I have the same idiotic grin as I did when I was reading the letter he wrote to me. I peck the crown of his head, his downy hair soft against my nose and cheeks.

“I’m back,” I say with a giggle.

“Mhm,” is all he responds with, taking another moment just to have me in his arms. It’s so endearing that my face flushes, but I let one of my hands pet through his hair.

Instead of putting me down Link opts to turn around and walk into his house with me in his arms, only earning more giggles from me. With one final squeeze he loosens his arms so I can slide back to the ground, where I’m still giving a goofy smile that matches his. Our foreheads rest against one another with our arms still draped over the other person, and I can hardly recall a time that I’ve been more content.

“Welcome back,” he whispers with his voice soft as honey. His expression practically begs me to lean forward and press a slightly-needy kiss to his lips. Luckily he instantly reciprocates, and feeling cheeky, I give a small nip to his bottom lip. I can’t stop smiling and neither can he, which proves to be a bit difficult when you’re trying to make out.

When we’ve come to the conclusion that we’re both too giddy to even _ kiss _ properly, he turns to shut the door. I forgot how inviting the warmth was, how calming the atmosphere is.

“Tell me about your trip,” he prompts gently as I begin to strip down from my cloak and heavier tunic.

“After you tell me about this alleged surprise!” I shoot back. That only gets his cheeks to turn a bright pink, practically glowing even in the soft amber light from the fire. Only now do I notice that the lights are off and the cottage is lit only by fireplace, casting a romantic ambience over the area.

I shoulder my pack off and set it next to the guest bed that we’d been sharing prior to my trip and step out of my boots, leaving me only in my comfortable slacks and a light shirt.

Link meanwhile heads to the wood stove, where he lifts a large pot from the burner to instead sit on the counter. “It’s just finished.”

“It?” I query, stepping over. The urge to wrap my arms around him from behind is strong, but I resist it when he handles the broiling pot.

With a towel he lifts the lid from the iron pot, grabs two bowls and a ladle. As he dishes out what I assume to be soup, the irresistible and heavy scent fills the air. Just the aroma itself is sweet and I can practically feel the taste settle on my tongue. _ Sweet, savoury, and so filling… What is this? _

“I’ll bring you a bowl. Could you, um…” Link’s voice dies down to a whisper. “Sit at the table and...close your eyes, please?”

“Of course,” I easily reply, wasting no time sliding a chair out for the both of us before plopping down onto one.

My (E/C) eyes drift shut and my hands rest on my lap, my fingers idly tapping my thighs as a weak distraction. The sound of Link’s footsteps snaps me out of my brief reverie and I hear the soft _ clink _ of a bowl being set in front of me, and then one across from me. The warm steam wafts against my cheeks, the warm condensation bringing an unintentional flush to my cheeks. The scent is somehow even stronger now, just the smell enough to warm my insides—much like the soft, spicy taste of parsnips that wraps you in comfort.

“Okay, you can open them.”

My eyes flutter open, unable to contain my curiosity. In my bowl sits a smooth cream soup that is a stunning natural shade of calamine pink. Cut into squares are vegetables (I assume) that I don’t recognize, but the centrepiece of the dish is the radish that sits in the rich soup and has been cut into its natural heart shape. I can’t help my lips parting in a small gasp.

“This is… This looks and smells _ amazing_, Link. No, not even that… I don’t have the words to describe it.”

His face is the same colour as the cream of the soup, but his smile is so sheepish that I’m worried he may combust.

“It’s called Creamy Heart Soup,” he admits quietly.

“That sounds delicious, I’ve never heard of it!”

Link has to clear his throat before realizing he’s much too shy to speak and instead raises his hands to sign. _ It’s said that if— _

He cuts himself off, I assume from his bashfulness, but I wait patiently and give an encouraging smile. Even that is enough to assure him into continuing.

_ It’s said that if two people share it, then they’ll be brought closer together. _

A light blush settles on my own cheeks when he admits that, and his bright blue eyes cast themselves downward.

_ I hope you don’t think it’s too much since we’ve only been doing this for about four weeks— _

This time I reach out to rest a hand on his own, pausing them midway through their signing. With an abashed smile of my own I sign back, _ It’s perfect. _

I can see his nervousness begin to melt away, and I wonder how someone could possibly be just so cute and shy. It’s an endearing quality if anything, considering he always has the courage to continue on while being a perfect gentleman. I’m glad to see I’m not the only one apparently falling so fast.

“Thank you so, _ so _ much, Link. I love it.” I lean over the table, careful not to knock my bowl, to press a sweet and slow kiss to his lips. “I’d love to share it with you.”

His dorky smile that I fell in lo—that captivated me returns, dimples and all. I sit back down but reach over with my left hand to take his right, giving a faint squeeze. I’ve never been so grateful for him to be left-handed since it means we can hold hands while eating without it being awkward. Link weaves his fingers through my own, his slightly-calloused skin a familiar comfort that I missed dearly. I casually glide the pad of my thumb over his knuckles as I take a spoonful of the soup, blowing before eagerly trying it.

The cream keeps the soup heavy and filling, but melts to give way to the punchy notes of melon and something else I can’t place. The sweetness balances with the savoury radish, and as I swallow, I feel a warmth blossom through my chest.

“Oh my… That’s _ exquisite_.” A bright smile spreads over my face. “Where did you learn this? I’ve never had anything like it.”

As expected, Link doesn’t shy away from the praise but he sheepishly ducks his head for a moment. Rather than pulling his hand away to sign he murmurs, “I learned it from the Ge—the Kara Kara Bazaar. I was talking to another traveller and they showed me.”

Another squeeze to his hand is given as I swallow another spoonful. “I can taste the cream, milk, radishes, and...I think a fruit?” I hazard a guess. “But I can’t pick out the others…”

“A hydromelon and voltfruit,” he answers.

“I never would’ve thought to put fruits into a soup, but… Goddesses, it’s just so good.” The pleasant warmth of the soup settles not just in my chest but also in my cheeks. “Where did you get them?”

“I placed an order at the general store—it took about a week for them to arrive.”

I nod in understanding, unable to think of any more questions as I continue to enjoy the sublime soup. The chunks of hydromelon give a satisfyingly sweet crunch followed by the soothing, mild flavour of the cream. The soft spice from the radish combined with the voltfruit leaves me feeling so pleasantly full that I don’t think I’ll ever taste something as satisfying ever again.

We finish our bowls without leaving a single morsel behind, and I sit back though I keep my hand in Link’s. “I don’t think I’ll ever see soup the same way again.”

It gets a cute laugh from him before he gets to his feet, sliding his fingers from mine to instead take our bowls to the sink. After stretching my arms over my head, my back a tad stiff from walking all day, I head over to wrap my arms around Link’s waist like I yearned to earlier. I press a light kiss to the back of his neck, which I can feel heat up with my actions. There’s something charming about how no matter what we do, any affection draws a reaction from him.

He pauses where he is and allows himself to bask in the quiet peace between us.

“You’re so sweet to me,” I whisper, inhaling the comforting scent of pine and freshly-fallen rain.

His neck only grows hotter and I can see the tips of his ears tinged the same shade of calamine pink as the soup. My arms hold him as though he were fragile, wanting nothing more than to be perfectly gentle with him.

“I can’t believe you did that for me.” My breath ghosts over his skin and I can feel some hairs raise up. “You’re so thoughtful, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Normally such vulnerable admittances would send anxiety reverberating through my heart, but now the words flow from my lips as easily as honey. _ It just feels so right. I guess this is what happens when you find someone truly special. _ I give one last kiss before loosening my grip.

“Looks like I’ll have to step up my game,” I lightly tease before covering my mouth as I give a yawn.

Link’s ear twitches at the sound. “You should rest, you had such a long day.”

“But we’ve spent so little”—another yawn—“time together.”

“We have all of tomorrow,” he replies with an expression I can only describe as tranquil.

“I know, but I’d feel so bad… You did so much tonight.”

He shakes his head. “I promise it’s okay.”

I have to admit the heaviness and warmth of the soup practically has my eyelids drooping, and I give a sigh of defeat before walking over to my pack to fish out a change of clothes. My shoulders drop as I realize I wore my spare outfit yesterday and I haven’t had time to wash anything. I bite my lip as I contemplate what to do, not wanting to dirty the guest bed.

The silence must catch Link’s attention because he says, “Not tired?”

“No, no, I just—I just realized I don’t have a clean change of clothes.”

He gives a nod and wordlessly crosses the room to head up the stairs and opens his closet. Though normally I’d object and say something along the lines of _ oh, you don’t have to, _I know I don’t have much of a choice. I shyly wait at the bottom of the stairs, twirling the hem of my shirt between my fingers until Link steps down.

He holds a beige shirt that’s long enough to go to my mid-thigh, and over his arm is a pair of clean slacks similar to my own.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I take them and head to his washroom to change.

The shirt is long-sleeved and barely covers my butt, but the pants for whatever reason refuse to stay up. _ We aren’t that different in size, so why do they keep falling down? And I’m not about to wear a belt to sleep. _

After a few attempts I huff and give up, figuring I’ll be just fine in this shirt and my underwear. Hopefully it doesn’t make Link uncomfortable, but at the same time...I wouldn’t be opposed to him seeing it.

I step out just as Link has finished changing to his own pajamas, which is just a plain shirt with his underwear. When he spots me I can see his face steadily turn a shade of red I haven’t seen before and it gets me snickering.

“We match,” I say, motioning to our shirts and underwear.

He takes an interest in everything that isn’t me, his eyes averted from my body and exposed legs. Link signs, _ I guess so. _

I’m much more comfortable than him it seems, and give him a peck on the cheek as I walk past him and to the bed. The fireplace still provides an ample soft light that won’t keep us awake but allows us to see clearly enough. The bright chartreuse sheets smell fresh as I tuck myself in and scoot over, raising the blanket for Link to join. He gives a small smile, scratches his cheek, and slides onto the mattress next to me. I roll onto my side and he immediately takes his position behind me to be the (not-much-bigger) spoon. His arm drapes over my hip and I can feel his forehead rest against the base of my neck.

“Goodnight, Link,” I whisper, not wanting to break the silence.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” I feel his lips press against my shoulder before he rests back.

  
  
  
  


I don’t know how many minutes or hours pass, but despite my earlier exhaustion and filling meal I can’t fall asleep for the life of me. Am I tired? Yes. Can I actually get comfortable? No.

The straw mattress beneath me is soft, Link’s body heat is comforting, and I couldn’t be more peaceful—so what’s the problem? I shift enough to scoot closer to him and try to close my eyes again, brows pinching together in annoyance. Even after being as still as a corpse for what feels like half an hour, nothing. I try not to groan and wiggle again to try and somehow find a new, magical position that will send me to sleep.

Behind me I hear Link shift and hear his head raise from the pillow. I turn my head and question with a voice low enough that it wouldn’t wake him even if he were asleep, “Link?”

“Mmm?” comes the grumble.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Mm-mm.”

I roll myself over to face him, our chests almost pressed together. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He raises a hand to rub his eye and grumbles, “Yeah. You too?”

“Yeah.”

We both lay there for a minute, not many words needing to be exchanged. Enough time has passed since dinner that the fire now has a lower glow.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Huh?”

The limited space between us allows me to feel the heat that radiates from his body.

“Every day, I… I just had to keep busy so I wouldn’t think about you.”

I can feel my heart melt and I tilt my head upwards, our lips nearly touching. “Link… I missed you too.”

“I missed...this.”

“This?”

“Being close. Just being together. Touching you. And...kissing.” His shy admittance has me biting my tongue so I don’t giggle.

I purse my lips before quietly murmuring, “What’s stopping you?”

Link blinks and glances down at me in surprise, and even in this darkness his eyes captivate me. It seems I have the same effect on him. I tilt my chin by just another centimetre and it’s enough for Link to take the hint.

He closes the distance and presses his lips to mine, the two of us melding together in a blissful harmony. It goes from innocent to daring, especially when I for once feel Link part his lips first. Without embarrassing him I take the invitation, sliding my tongue past his lips. He tastes like the subtle warm spice of the soup we had, and I can’t help the pleased sigh I give. Within another minute I raise my arms to loop around his neck as we continue to passionately make out.

Our kissing grows more fervent with each passing moment. Soon enough Link’s gained the courage to explore my own mouth with his tongue, and with a brazen act of my own, I begin to lightly suck on it. That gets a hiss from him that sends a shock of heat right to the pit of my stomach, and he pulls back with my bottom lip between his teeth.

We stare into each other’s eyes and even in the extremely dim light are able to recognize each other’s expressions. _ Want. A need. _

It dawns on me the true reason for my earlier restlessness and fidgeting, and following that line of thinking, hook one of my legs over his waist. Link needs no further prompting and leans back down to resume our searing kisses. The sounds we make are nearly lewd and my thighs clench with the sudden need I’m beginning to feel.

His arm around my back guides me to lay back and he adjusts to hover over me, resting on his knees and an elbow. I give a quiet but shuddering moan each time we take a breath, my arms tightening momentarily around his shoulders. Link’s own sounds are sparse but each one has a lasting effect between my thighs. Right when I’m about to say that I can’t handle anymore, he breaks the kiss with a small _ pop _ before instantly connecting his mouth to the soft skin of my neck.

I take a shaky inhale as I feel his tongue trace along the delicate skin, my hands needing something more to anchor themselves and give Link room. As an alternative I adjust my grip to card my fingers through his soft blond locks, and tilt my head back to give him unerring access to my neck. I purse my lips as I feel him begin to gain more traction, kissing along my neck and gingerly sucking along certain spots.

However it’s one specific spot he delicately nibbles that gets me to sharply inhale, my knees reflexively raising to squeeze his hips. I purse my mouth to try and muffle the moan I barely made, unaware I even had a spot like that to begin with. Link’s evidently a quick learner and sticks to that spot, licking over it to soothe the gentle lovebites he gives. My wavering groan isn’t held back this time and my legs give another squeeze.

Already I can feel myself growing damp and my breaths have begun to quicken—_from just kisses and hickeys? _

I hate to admit how long I’ve gone without any form of relief, but Link’s body hovering over mine and his mouth giving so many sweet kisses seems to be enough to work me up. Recalling the incident at the hot springs, I’m barely able to grit out, “Li—Link.”

His kisses pause and he alternatively nuzzles his face against my neck.

“L-Link, I’m sorry, but I-I’m, um…” I can feel my face darken. “This is really, um...getting me going. I don’t think I can take much m-more.”

Perhaps to hide his own embarrassment, he keeps his face against me. I can feel his hot breath against my skin, but that’s not the only thing I feel. Something warm, something rigid presses against the inside of my thigh. I blush and feel another wave of heat shoot to my core.

“Is this o-okay?” I whisper, my hands still caressing his hair.

He gives a nod and a slight roll of his hips which has my body instinctively reciprocating. After giving another steamy kiss I can hear him whisper. “I… I’m ready. I want this. I want _ you_.”

Even though he says it so sweetly, the carnal meaning has me grinding my hips again. Seeing my need, he pushes himself up to rest on his hands, his face just above mine. Link adjusts himself to tuck one of his knees between my thighs and right against the place I need it. I feel warm enough to combust, especially when he surely feels the wet spot on my underwear. Similarly I can see him grow flustered but to his credit, he keeps his eyes locked onto mine.

He grinds his leg upward and my mouth drops in a small gasp, moving back. His eyes are gentle and caring, gauging every reaction of pleasure or possible discomfort. All he can see is lust as I rut against him again. His leg begins to move in time with my own hips, catching onto a steady rhythm that has my fingers unknowingly tightening in his hair.

Knowing he’s shy, I give the encouragement I’m sure he needs. “L-Link...that feels so good. Please, keep going.”

He gives a nod and touches his forehead to mine, intimately watching my expression change with each wave of pleasure. I drop my hands to rest above my head, breathing heavier than before. Link’s hands move to mine and he weaves his fingers between my own, keeping them pinned above my head but more importantly, makes me feel grounded. My hands tighten their grip with each particular motion of his leg. Unable to take more, I allow my head to loll to the side.

“Please, I… I want you to touch you t-too.” My voice is much weaker than I planned it to be.

His hands loosen from mine and pull back, slowing the roll of his thigh between mine. I rest my hands against his shoulders, still giving soft gasps as I trail them downward. My fingertips trace over some of his scars until they’re at the edge of his underwear. Not wanting to be too eager, I let one of my hands slide over the fabric to cup him. Link gives a shaky sound that I’ve never heard but decide I like _ very _ much.

I begin to pump my hand over his clothed length, both of us watching each other’s faces. There’s something so incredibly intimate about it rather than distracting ourselves with more feverish kisses. My fingers glide over the fabric, moving from his base to rub the pad of my thumb over the tip, where I can feel his own arousal dampening the fabric. Ashamed, Link breaks his gaze with me, so I lean up to peck his cheek.

“It’s okay… You’ve made me wet, too.” With another kiss I lie back, stroking him over the material while rolling my own hips against his thigh.

It’s plain to see that Link prefers to not be the centre of attention, and the palpable heat between us is too much to bear. My hand that isn’t pleasuring him moves to the dip under the hem of my own underwear, rubbing myself in time with his movements. I’m unable to prevent the heady moan that leaves my lips, my hand on him stuttering. Link notices and peers down, causing me to be the one to look away abashedly.

I feel the cool air hit my core and I peer downwards to see him moving his leg away, my hand dropping from his crotch. He sits back on his knees between my spread legs, only causing more reason for me to be somewhat self-conscious. I watch each movement of his curiously, allowing him to grasp the wrist of my hand that was pleasuring myself and pull it back.

“I-I want… I want to touch you,” he admits in a near-whisper.

I press my lips as I gather the courage to nod my head. “I want you to d-do that, too. Please.”

His captivating eyes blink back up to mine, searching for any sign of resistance. I reach for the bottom of his shirt and give a subtle tug, which is enough for him to lean back and tug it over his head. I do the same and allow my shirt to fall to the mattress, leaving us both in nothing but our underwear. When our eyes lock once more I arch my back and reach around, undoing the tie of my breastband without looking away. It slackens once I’ve tugged the string and without needing to contemplate much more, I pull it away and drop the fabric over the edge of the bed.

“Now we’re even,” I breathe, trying not to be too self-conscious. _ I hope he thinks I’m alright. _

Link’s warm hands slide to my sides, migrating upwards to stop just below my breasts. I rest my hands on his to guide them upwards, letting him knead the soft flesh.

He swallows thickly and I give another idle roll of my hips.

“Y-you’re… You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, eyes locked onto my chest to watch what he’s doing. “And so soft.”

My face warms and I let my hands fall to the side so he can massage my chest however he pleases. His touch is gentle, experimental, even. His fingers move to my nipples and lightly rub over them, sending a shiver down my spine. He repeats the action until they begin to harden, and once they do, he leans down to kiss over my soft mounds.

His warm mouth has me giving another near-whine, especially when he wraps his lips over the peak of my breast. His tongue circles over the sensitive flesh and causes me to gasp, my thighs compressing his sides in need. While he lavishes one of my boobs his hand kneads the other, his thumb still carefully applying pressure to the hardened nub.

My hands curl until my fingernails have begun to press half-moons into my palms, my body nearly quivering beneath him.

“L-Link,” I breathily beg.

His mouth pops away from my chest and he leans forward to press a hot and messy kiss to my lips. I groan into his mouth as he whispers, “Sorry.”

This time his touch begins to drift further down, stopping at the edge of my black panties. His eyes flick up to mine and I give an affirmative nod.

Link’s touch is as worshipping as ever when his thumbs hook under the sides of the fabric, pulling it away from my wet core. He leans back to assist in trailing them down my legs and completely off. I look to the side, resisting the urge to press my thighs together both for friction and to gain some sense of modesty.

“Don’t hide,” he asks softly. “You’re so perfect…”

It's my turn to swallow thickly and nod before allowing my legs to relax. I feel vulnerable enough being completely bared before him, but Link having a full view of my nearly-dripping entrance brings a whole new level of embarrassment.

I’m still unable to meet his steady if not flustered gaze, but I feel his warm touch begin to trail to the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I bite my bottom lip to stifle the needy sound I make, my hands fisting the sheets that lay under us. His touch pauses and I gaze back to him in question, catching his soft stare filled with what I can only assume to be adoration.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers, but I vehemently shake my head.

“I-I do. I do, I’m just...a little bit nervous.” I give a sheepish smile and he nods in understanding.

Link clears his throat before awkwardly admitting, “I’ve never, um...done this before.”

“That’s okay.”

“You'll tell me if I do something you don’t like?” His eyes are filled with a sincerity that could render me speechless, but I nod.

“Promise.”

He leans down to press a gentle kiss to my lips, his tongue mingling with my own before he pauses. The movement of his hand between my legs almost makes me flinch, having forgotten it was there. His touch is teasing without even trying as I feel the back of his fingers glide over my core, prompting a sharper inhale from me.

Link gauges each reaction of mine before shifting his hand to rest on the sensitive skin where my thigh meets my stomach. Not a moment later do I feel the rougher pad of his thumb press over my clit, rubbing in firm yet slow circles.

“_Mmh— _” I groan, pursing my lips as my legs instinctually raise an inch.

With the positive reaction he continues, still unsure but applying a decent pressure that begins to satisfy the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach. My back arches into his touch, more responsive than I would typically be—how have I managed to go _ months _ without any contact?

I’m not left wondering for much longer as he presses down a bit further, earning another throaty sound from me. My hands seem unsure where to be but require more contact than the sheets below, instead opting to grip Link’s shoulders as I stare up at him almost beggingly. I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, then feel one of his fingers slide through my slick folds. Another whimpering moan leaves me and I internally swear I’ve never been vocal before.

“Link, that feels—_really _ good.”

The wetness gathers over his finger until he switches to rub the flat of his hand over my slit. My body shudders and I see his eyes drift down to watch his own ministrations, his face blushing darker than before. My nails lightly dig into the skin of his shoulders, still biting my lip as he builds a rhythm grinding his hand over me. I rock my hips in time with the movements, my ears burning when the slick sounds meet my ears.

I’m about to ask for more when his hand shifts to position a finger at my entrance. With a brief nod of my confirmation he gradually sheathes his finger into me. It’s not a difficult stretch and he’s able to sink his finger to the knuckle. That doesn’t stop me from giving me a wanton groan and clenching around him. Link’s ears turn even redder much like my own as he begins to gingerly slide it out.

He sinks it back in and it has me thrusting my hips before suggesting, “A-another one, please.”

Link obliges and adds a second finger, giving a more fulfilling stretch than before. I wiggle against his touch, my hips shifting to get more. The wet sounds only grow more pronounced but my mind’s begun to flee to the pursuit of pleasure instead, not being as embarrassed anymore. The movements of his hand are something I’ve been craving for weeks and now all of that desperation has begun to melt away.

When his thumb presses to my clit again I gasp, my breath stuttering and my back arching. I feel the heat thrum through my body in waves, crashing against my core and causing my vision to nearly blur. Link continues to rub against my centre while pumping his fingers, my back now locked in an arch as he pleasures me. My head begins to swim with the sharp pangs of heat and after another minute of adjustment, I can feel Link tentatively add a third finger.

“Ah—_ahhI! _” I cry out, throwing my head back. I’m unable to stop my legs from lifting and locking around his back, my heels anchoring myself to his touches.

Each thrust only pulls another moan from me, my breaths quickening and the heat pooling right above Link’s hand. “I-I can’t—_Link!_”

I give a final wavering cry, my nails locking into his back like claws as I feel the intense heat of my orgasm wash over me. Like a shiver shooting down my spine, the addictive touches send a wave of pure ecstasy right to my head. My mind momentarily blanks and my mouth hangs open as I pant, clenching around Link’s fingers as though begging for them to not pull away. He obliges and continues to finger me through my climax, only prolonging it.

The juices of my arousal drip down his hand and the muscles of my thighs go completely slack after the thrilling ripples begin to subside. I’m still panting hard to regain oxygen, my eyes barely focusing on the handsome face hovering over mine.

“L...Link,” I nearly whine, the grip of my legs loosening around him.

“Are you okay?” he questions, touching his forehead to mine in this blissful moment.

I swallow thickly, my mouth dry while I give a nod. “T-that was… Oh, Goddesses. You were just amazing.”

My (E/C) eyes lazily blink open to rest on his, my fingers at last releasing their grip on his shoulders. We share a few more hot kisses, his tongue exploring my mouth and trailing over my teeth. I similarly try to lavish him with just as much heat, as though I could memorize every bit of mouth, every part of his perfect smile.

I break it though a string of spit still connects our lips. “Please, I want you to feel good too. I need you, Link.”

Those seem to be the magic words that dispel any of his worries or shyness. My soft touch trails from his shoulders down his chest and to the sides of his underwear. Instead of retracting or being reduced to an adorable bashful mess, Link’s (wet) hands rest over mine to shuck them off. I couldn’t be blamed for staring as I watch his length slap against his stomach, my mouth suddenly beginning to water in response. He kicks off his navy underwear and looks back to me before raising one of his hands to stroke himself, getting off to the sight of me. The dull heat begins to throb between my thighs again as I observe, my own hand migrating downwards to slide through my folds.

I gather the slick arousal on my fingers before reaching forward, coercing his hand to let go. In its place I grip his shaft, pumping my hand along his member to lubricate it. While I have to admit I’ve fantasized about seeing Link in his bare glory, he’s somehow better than I thought: he’s above average in length and has a girth that I know will fulfill my craving.

His head drops and he gives a sweet, near-melodical sound as I continue to stroke over him. One of my fingers teasing trails over the vein on the underside, sending a shudder through his body. I can feel him throb in my hand and my eyes lock onto his face, wanting to see every sweet expression he makes. I rotate my hand to rub the flat of my palm over the reddened tip, feeling his own precum smear over my hand. It only serves to further lubricate his shaft as I gradually increase the pressure I apply.

Link’s inhales are short and stutter, and he falls forward enough to rest his head in the crook of my neck. His hot exhales ghost over my skin, making my hair stand on end as I quicken the pace.

“Nngh—(Y/N),” he nearly _ whines_, only making my nethers clench in response to such a needy sound. His hand raises to clasp mine and I freeze, watching to see if I’ve crossed a line. Instead he regains his breath and quietly admits, “I… I’m close, and… I don’t want to. Not yet.”

I nod and let him lean back, both of our bodies flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The glow of the fireplace highlights our bodies but it’s dark enough that we don’t feel vulnerable. It’s impossible to tear my eyes from him as our chests rise in fall in time.

After another minute Link mumbles, “This is...my first time. I’ve never…”

I reach to take his hand in mine and give a reassuring squeeze. “Neither have I. I’ve done things...leading up to it, but I’ve never gone all the way.”

“Y-you mean I’ll be—?”

I nod. “I want you to be my first.”

So much blood has rushed to both his head and between his legs that I’m sure he’s about to pass out.

“I want you to be m-my first, too.” Link licks his lips before admitting, “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” I claim while shaking my head. After gathering my strength from my first climax, I lean up to rest my weight on my elbows before turning us both over.

Link rests back on the bed, his head on the plush pillows. My thighs straddle him, my own slit pressing his length to his stomach. The warmth of it is unparalleled and I grind my hips against it, spreading more of my arousal against him. His moan is shaky and his hands grasp my hips.

“Is this okay?” I check, feeling my nerves grow at the thought of taking him all. “It’ll hurt the first time. F-for me, I mean. But I’ll be okay. I want this.”

He nods and raises a hand to comb a lock of (H/C) hair behind my ear before it traces to cup my cheek. The tender gesture has me faintly blushing and I nuzzle into his loving touch.

“You’re ready?” he murmurs a final time.

“Mhm. You?”

Link nods and I can feel my throat tighten, gripping his thick shaft in one hand to line up with my entrance. _ This is it. This is the moment where I’ll finally have what I’ve wanted. _ I don’t allow myself more time to contemplate and grow nervous, instead sinking down until his tip breaches me.

My inhale is sharp when I feel the stretch, nothing outrageous so far but enough to let me know I’ll have to adjust. I lower my hands to rest over his chest, Link’s thumbs rubbing soothing circles against my hipbones. The straw mattress crinkles beneath us as I gradually lower myself onto him, feeling the stretch grow until a dull burning can be felt.

I’m forced to pause and shut my eyes, reminding myself to breathe evenly as I adjust to his length. To his credit Link stays completely still despite how torturous it surely is for him—I can tell by the way he throbs inside of me, my walls unintentionally clenching. When the pain begins to subside I rest further down, now feeling a burn in my thighs as I support myself.

“Y-you’re so big,” I breathe, my hands subtly shaking where they rest against his chest.

“You’re...really tight.”

Such basic phrases have us both nearly smiling. Here we are, himself four inches deep in me, and we’re barely able to make a simple statement. The burning grows more intense but I know I’m only going to prolong it if I continue this way.

I take a deep inhale, hold it, then exhale before allowing my thighs to collapse. My own hips slap against pelvis, the two of us flush against one another. The pain is reminiscent of being torn in half and stars invade my vision. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes and I grit my teeth, reminding myself to relax or it’ll only hurt more. I make a pitiful sound as the pain thrums before beginning to steadily subside.

Link’s sure not to move, too afraid to worsen it, but his hands come to cup my cheeks. One of his thumbs wipes away a stray tear and I sniffle.

“Are you okay?” His voice is laced with concern.

I nod, still shaking subtly. “Y-yeah. It’s getting better.”

I allow myself another minute to relax, waiting until my inhales even out before my body relaxes. Where the pain melts away a carnal need takes its place, causing me to experimentally roll my hips forward.

Link’s needy moan is barely heard over my own, having never felt something so...so _ deep_. Have I ever felt so full? So overheated?

His hands flinch before they lower and take their places on my waist, anchoring me as I gradually make a pace. I can feel every bit of him rubbing against every bit of me, practically kissing the innermost parts of my womb. My movements are shaky as the stimulation from my previous orgasm begins to add to my current pleasure. The heat I feel builds in large strides, my knees clenching Link’s sides as I ride him.

Bright blue eyes are locked onto my face, my bouncing chest, the sight of him disappearing into me with each grind of my body, unable to decide where to rest. As I gather a quickening rhythm his warm touch travels up my sides, giving my breasts an appreciative grope before lowering again. This time his own hips roll upward to meet mine.

“_O-oh, God—!_” I choke out as he hits the deepest part of me, a place difficult for me to reach normally. I tense around him and it draws a growl from the back of his throat, continuing to thrust upwards and meet my hips halfway.

His pelvis grows more wet as my arousal coats his member, and the only sound in his house is the needy moans, panting, and slapping of my hips against his. My cheeks are positively burning as we make love, the clapping sound only turning me on more. With each thrust he brushes against that deep spot that has my thighs trembling, my body shaking, until I hardly have enough strength to raise myself with a steady rhythm.

Link, the godsend that he is, takes over. His hands move to cup my ass instead, raising and lowering me without sacrificing the pace I started. It begins to gain more traction and the frequency of his ministrations have a coil tightening in the pit of my stomach. He angles his hips to perfectly fuck against that exact spot that has my eyes rolling back, and a voice reaches my ears. A pleasure-heavy babbling and sounds of euphoria that I recognize as my own voice, so foreign when all I can feel is how splendidly he stretches me open.

“L-Link, Link, Link, _ Link!_” I gasp with each roll of his hips, and I see his jaw clenching as he attempts to hold himself together.

“I-I’m—I’m going to—” he grits out.

“_Please!_”

Not a moment later do I feel that tightening spring snap free, like a taut rubber band being let go. I’m unable to stop myself from giving a nearly-pornographic yell as I finish, riding him harder than I thought possible. My own clenching causes him to climax with a cut-off groan.

I feel his release fill me, hot and slick. My body practically milks him for every bit of it and each of his several strong thrusts results in the same. He continues to spurt inside me with each bounce of my body, my chest constricting until I’m unsure if I’m breathing anymore. With each messy thrust the lewd squelching sounds gain volume, and after a few more I can feel his cum trailing from my entrance to drip down his shaft.

I give a pitiful moan from the back of my throat as the strong waves, feeling like the ocean’s water slapping against the rocks of the shore, begin to burst and gradually retract back to the sea once more. The pleasure is intense but begins to fade, our thrusts becoming slower and uneven. Link gasps for breath beneath me as our gazes lock, totally enraptured by the euphoria that has our nerves shot. My chest heaves and my body loses any semblance of strength it once had.

I limply flop forward, but to my own excitement, Link keeps himself buried deep within me. At this moment I realize that he isn’t softening—instead, he’s still as rock-hard as before. I peer up to him, blinking hazily.

He gives me a warm smile which I return with an exhausted one of my own. Before the words reach my brain they tumble from my lips.

“I love you,” I breathe. “I love you.”

Link’s brows shoot up though not as much as normal considering our exhaustion. His soft voice is enough to reduce to me a watery-eyed mess as our emotions hit a peak.

“I love you too, (Y/N). I have for...for so long.”

I sniffle and whisper, “Me too. But…” His expression is replaced with one of concern before I continue, wiggling my hips to prove my point. “You still need to be taken care of.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re so tired… It’s okay.”

I shake my head right back. It takes a moment for me to gather the courage before affirming, “Link. _ I want you to fuck me_.”

His complexion practically explodes with a bright blush, his cheeks rosy. He swallows thickly as I push myself onto my shaky arms, getting onto my knees. I give a groan as he pulls out, the sensitivity almost painful but at the same time somehow making me yearn for more.

Seeing my current state, Link sits up and rolls me onto my side. I’m still gasping for breath, my hair an absolute mess before I loll onto my front. He positions himself behind me and assists when it comes to lifting my hips up. My face rests against the pillows that smell like him, sending another wave of heat to my loins. I groan as Link grinds against my ass, slick with our mixed fluids.

“You’re sure?” he checks again, and I give a silent nod. _ I’ve never been more sure. _

His length sinks into me with no resistance, but the more sensitive I am the less control I have over my noises. My mouth drops open with an elongated moan, feeling like I’m about to drool on the sheets. Link begins a steady pace that has his hips clapping against my ass even louder than before.

“F-faster,” I gasp, and he dutifully obeys. His thrusts become stronger and somehow he seems to reach even deeper than before. I can feel myself already begin to drip, my third orgasm mounting faster than the previous two.

Link gives a low grunt with each motion until he falls forward to rest on his hands, his hot chest against my back. The feeling of him bearing down on me is unbearable, my vision filling with stars as he continues to drill into me.

I don’t need to ask him to go faster when his pace begins to quicken on its own, leaving me nearly unable to breathe. Wordlessly one of my hands reaches back and grasps his as an anchor when I feel what I know will be an insurmountable orgasm coming. Link takes it firmly in his own and grips it tight, both of us holding each other like we’re at risk of being torn apart. I’m past the point of cries and all I can hear is Link’s harsh panting in my ear.

When his spare hand reaches down to flick between my legs, I let out a scream I didn’t know I had. My entire body trembles, my thighs shaking as I cum harder than ever before. Our combined mess drips down my thighs messily to stain the sheets between my knees, my eyes overflowing with tears of bliss. They roll back as Link’s second climax hits, stuffing me even more than I thought possible. The wet squelches cause our combined releases to trail down our thighs each time he pulls out, the milky mixture beginning to pool below us.

I don’t remember anything beyond pure bliss, all of my senses lost. I see nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing—all I feel is how beautifully Link fills me to the brim. The pleasure is intense enough that I’m blinded and feel a prickling in my extremities.

When I’m able to blink my unbearably heavy eyelids open, I’m met with Link’s anxious face. His brows are pinched with worry and his eyes, similar to my own, are watery. The air cools the tear tracks on my cheeks and I see his lips moving. Like I’m resurfacing from the water, his voice gradually becomes clearer and clearer.

“—ear me? (Y/N), are you okay? (Y/N)? I’m sorry, I—”

“ ‘m okay,” I slur, my body heavier than it’d feel if there were a Lynel on my chest.

“I’m so s-sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” I cut him off, still heaving for breath before swallowing thickly. “I-I wanted to. I feel s-so...so good. Like I-I’ve never felt.”

His stunningly handsome face falls to one of relief as my senses return. I finally notice my hand held by his against his hot cheek, practically burning up like the top of Death Mountain against the soles of your feet. I sniffle again and feel the result of our lovemaking against my skin, my inner thighs growing cold as it dries. How long was I out for? Likely not more than a minute.

Link notices my shivering and drags the sheet back over of us, which must have fallen over the edge of the bed during our lust-driven fest. The only thing in my mind is him and nothing exists in this world beyond our bed, beyond our home.

His lips press to my forehead as he rests my body over his, my head tucked under his chin. His rapidly-beating heart thrums under my ear and my own begins to beat in sync, truly feeling like I’ve become one with him. I’ve never loved someone like this before and it genuinely feels like we’re inhabiting the same body. Our heartbeats begin to calm as our inhales slow down, my body raising with each of Link’s inhales.

I’ve never felt such a pure exhaustion before and it’s not long before my eyelids begin to droop. I’m unsure if what I hear is even Link’s voice or my own love-drunk thoughts.

“I never thought I’d have someone like you… I love you, (Y/N).”


	23. Argent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Link's mystery only grows.

I genuinely have never slept so heavily my entire life. Even the night after my eighteen-hour slog up the side of Mount Hebra last year doesn’t compare in the slightest. The afterglow of the previous night’s events last through the waking hours as we rest in one another’s arms, neither of us fitful or moving for most of the night. The morning after one would expect a new level of intimacy to their relationship, perhaps a sense of security or a lingering lust.

Instead, the two of us are met with fright.

The front door of Link’s home swings open and clatters against the wall, both of us waking with a start. I’m immediately brought back to thinking I’m in the middle of an ambush, and Link seems to follow the same line of thinking. We urgently get up, the sheets falling to our laps as we grip each other. Our eyes meet, asking, _ What the hell is going on? _

“Linkyyyy! You promised you’d update me on the Slate, but it doesn’t matter! I’ve made a _ phenomenal _new development with my darling Guidance Stone!”

The voice causes our stomachs to drop as Dr. Purah strides into the home easily and rounds the corner.

“And why do you never keep your door locked? You should really—” She turns on her heel with her petite hands on her hips before her eyes land on us, both naked in the bed with wrinkled sheets, myself topless.

I can’t help but gasp and muffle a shriek as I begin to backpedal and reach for the sheet, as though she were a rapidly-approaching Moblin.

“Ohoho-_ho! _” she cackles, her head throwing back with laughter as our faces turn scarlet with mortification.

“O-oh my _ Goddesses_, Dr. Purah—!” I cry as I scramble to pull the sheets up to cover myself, my heart racing and feeling so much blood rising upwards that headrush sets in.

Link slides forward to put himself in front of me and preserve some of my modesty, which I’m grateful for. Purah is still cackling maniacally and finally turns away, wiping a tear from her eye. “So you finally made the move, huh Linky?”

I can see the tips of his ears begin to practically glow with his blush, and I drop my head to hide against his shoulder with a groan. Not after a moment of respite does she turn back around, though at least Link and I’s important bits are covered.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you both! I was personally wondering when it’d happen. I figured another month considering how shy he is, but—oh, look at me, rambling on!” She continues to face us as though nothing is wrong in the slightest. “I came here to tell you—”

“Dr. Purah, if I may,” I interrupt with a sharp tone, my pride and humiliation rearing their heads in a dangerous combo. “What makes you think it’s okay to suddenly barge into someone’s house at, at—what time is it?”

She taps her chin. “Hmm… Last I checked, about five in the morning. Research never rests, you know.”

Link’s hands raise to cover his face and bury his head in his knees, myself still shielded by the sheets and his body. He gives a quiet groan, both of us embarrassed beyond anything we’ve felt our entire lives. At least, I assume he’s never faced something this grand—it’d be hard to beat someone walking in the night after you’d lost your virginity with your lover while you’re both still naked.

“Now, up, up! Get ready! I’ve got something BIG to show you both!” Purah raises a finger to the air before turning to walk out. “Oh, and do lock your doors, Linky. Especially now that you have this...new pastime, shall we call it?”

Her devious giggles follow her on the way out, shutting the door behind herself. Link and I are left in complete shock, cuddled against each other, hiding, and partially covered by sheets. My heart is pounding hard enough to bruise the inside of my ribcage and oxygen seems to evade me. Thankfully (or perhaps not) it seems Link is in the same condition. We shakily glance at each other, my (E/C) eyes meeting his own azure ones. The realization of last night hits us, seeing the other bare in broad daylight rather than dim firelight, only causing us to grow more red.

It’s about then that a dull throbbing between my thighs becomes more pronounced. Before it felt as though I were sitting on a rock, something uncomfortable beneath me, but I recognize it as my own sore muscles. _ Dammit, I know I shouldn’t have pushed myself for three rounds. Especially my first time, for Hylia’s sake. But it just felt too good to stop… _

As Link sits up completely, still pink, the mattress shifts beneath us and sends a dull throb of pain between my legs and up my spine. I give a groan and cringe before falling back to the mattress, letting out another pitiful sound.

Link signs, _ Are you okay? _

I swallow thickly, arms spread at my sides and not bothering to cover my chest anymore. “It definitely smarts a bit.”

He’s ashamed even still but signs, _ Your… _And points at my nether region. I give a nod, his bashfulness still somehow endearing.

“Y-yeah… Definitely pushed myself.”

_ I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have— _

My hand raises to gentle rest on his own. “Link, don’t apologize. Never apologize for what we did last night.” My soft voice seems to calm him. “Besides, I asked you, and I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t one-hundred percent want it. And I’m pretty sure this soreness is normal.”

His shoulders relax and he slouches before questioning, _ Can you walk? _

“No clue. But I’m not looking forward to it.”

That gets a small laugh out of him and I smile as he leans down to peck my forehead. His hands squeeze my own before he says, _ Let me get you some clothes. Purah isn’t the patient type. _

I chuckle softly before nodding. “Thank you, Link.”

He slides out from the bed to stand and bends down to grab the shirts we had worn last night, which are miraculously still clean since they were torn off so early. Instead of making him go upstairs I say, “Those will be fine. I’ll just wear my pants from yesterday.”

Link nods and turns, causing me to snicker. His ears twitch at the sound and he turns his head in question.

“Sorry, you just—you have such a cute butt.”

His face lights up like a candle, bringing the shirt in his hands up to cover his face and hide.

“I’m sorry!” I try to console, but his butt _ is _ very cute and I have a difficult time tearing my eyes away. “We had sex last night and you’re embarrassed by me calling your bum cute?”

He crouches down with his head still in his hands, prompting me to crawl from the sheets despite the throbbing in my thighs. “No, no, I’m sorry! Don’t be embarrassed! It’s a compliment!”

Link can hardly even look at me when he lowers the fabric. With one (shaky) hand he signs, _ Well...yours is too. _

I snort and my head plunks into the mattress, body shaking with laughter. “Well I’m glad you think so. But we don’t have any more time to be embarrassed.”

He nods and gets his head on straight, handing me the shirt and grabbing one for himself. My bottom feels thoroughly bruised as I perch on the edge of the bed, getting dressed hurriedly. We’re the picture definition of the ‘walk of shame,’ what with our messy bedhead, twisted clothing, and my unsteady walking. I’m just glad I wasn’t wearing makeup. As I torturously slip on my slacks Link grabs two apples from the fruit bowl on the dining table, tossing one to me.

“Tanks,” I reply after putting it in my mouth to hold between my teeth.

Straightening out my hair is a fool’s errand and yet Link’s looks so naturally fluffy. How can he be so beautiful at all times?

“Are you guys done yet?” A voice calls from outside.

“Almost!” I answer.

Link flashes a nervous smile in thanks before he raises his hands. _ Can you walk? _

“Not well,” I sheepishly admit.

_ Do you need me to carry you? _

“I’m sorry, but I think that’d be even more embarrassing.”

_ ...You’re probably right. Do you need to stay here? _

“I’m okay, I’ll come. I’ve been through worse.”

Link helps me to my feet as I secure the belt and step into my boots, running a hand through my hair one final time. He signs, _ I didn’t imagine our morning after turning out this way… _

My hand raises to ruffle his hair and plant a kiss on his lips. “Neither did I, but hey—any time I spend with you is time well spent.”

After another kiss for good measure, I take a bite of my apple and swing open the door. Purah stands waiting in the early-morning shade of the oak tree, arms crossed. “Wow, you guys are slow! Though I guess I can’t blame you.”

I roll my eyes and continue eating my apple to hide my flushed cheeks.

“Alright! Now follow me! Link, you have the Sheikah Slate?”

He nods before we begin to walk to the Myahm Agana Shrine, because I know I won’t be able to walk more than a kilometer uphill. I feel a warmth over my back and recognize it as Link’s hand guiding and steadying me. I give him a small smile in return and he bites his apple to avoid blushing further. Our complexions are still quite rosy after this morning’s debacle.

  
  
  
  


As our bodies reassemble at the peak of Hateno Village, we go from feeling weightless to heavy. Just when our boots touch the cold stone, Dr. Purah is already off and strutting towards the set of sliding double-doors that lead to her research lab.

“C’mon, slowpokes!”

I sigh and swallow another bite of my apple. “I wonder what’s gotten her so excited… Is she normally this peppy?”

Link shakes his head before considering the question, and then shrugs.

We follow the petite woman into her lab, where there are somehow more papers and books spread about than the last time I set foot here. There is still the incessant background noise from the various machinery, chugging and scraping sounds as Purah’s assortment of contraptions work.

“Over here, over here. Look!” She motions to what appears to be a small table with a roll of parchment, and multiple ink stains. There is also a thin metal tray which must be steel, judging by its pale argent-silver colour. It sits next to her beloved Guidance Stone, attached at the side.

“And...what are we looking at?” I question, Link mirroring my confused expression.

Rather than being offended, she claps her teeny hands. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked! Well, I’ve been working on it for awhile to get all the kinks out, but I _ finally _devised a way to make real portraits from the camera rune on the Sheikah Slate!”

That gets me to blink in surprise. “Like, paintings? Do you paint them by hand?”

“No, silly! That’d take forever! But I’m sure that by placing the Slate on the Guidance Stone, placing a sheet of parchment onto here, and then by filling these compartments with ink that I purchased—very expensive, I’ll have you know—and it can take the image and—”

Her explanation seems to go over Link and I’s heads, and we exchange confused glances but allow her to carry on with her passionate rant. Even if we don’t understand it, it’s likely exciting for Dr. Purah to be able to share this project with the common masses and not just her fellow scientists.

“So, did you get all that?” She turns with a grin, hands on her hips.

“I-I, um…” I swallow thickly before recovering. “Yeah, yeah… That sounds really cool! But I think we’ll understand it more if we...saw it in action?”

“You! (Y/N)! You understand me. Now Linky, if I could borrow the Sheikah Slate?”

He seems hesitant for only a moment before pulling it from his belt to hand over. The screen glows and blips to life as Purah takes it, setting up her stacks of papers, inks, and finally having to jump to set the Slate into the Guidance Stone. I have half the mind to offer to put it in for her just before she gets it. The ancient machine whirs and accepts the Slate with ease, lowering it down to lock into place.

“Picture time!” Purah sings, confirming the pictures on the screen of the Sheikah Slate. Link and I stand aside, unsure what to expect, but hopefully nothing too calamitous.

The Guidance Stone goes completely silent and we wait in a pregnant silence for the moment it decides to work. After a few seconds it becomes clear that it’s halted whatever process it had, and Dr. Purah pouts with a huff. She stalks over on her short legs and hops back onto her stool, trying to sort out whatever the problem may be.

“Rrrgh—the paper got jammed!” she complains, trying in vain to tug it out though it seems securely stuck. “I really didn’t want to resort to percussive maintenance on my precious Guidance Stone, but...so be it!”

She gives a kick of her foot to the machine, though from a person of Purah’s size it does absolutely nothing. Her fists curl in indignation and she reels back to kick again, and this time I notice Link talk a subtle step forward before kicking it at the same time as the scientist. With his strength the Guidance Stone begins to light up and work once more, causing the little lady to cry out in victory.

“Aha, I did it!”

I shoot Link a look that says _ I saw that _ and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. We’d be distracted longer if it weren’t for the sudden sputtering and crinkling of parchment that meets our ears. Our gazes snap over to where a fountain of papers seem to be flying into the air, each of them smudged with ink and fluttering to the floor. Like hectic confetti it continues to pour down on us and promptly turns around Purah’s attitude.

“W-wait, no! Stop! Too many! That ink is too expensive!” Her tiny hands pat around to try and hit a kill switch or whatever failsafe she may have installed.

I bend down to scoop up some of the papers, my eyes widening. “Link, look! It worked!”

The ink is wet and smudges on the pads of my thumbs, but a picture from the camera has been painted onto the parchment in incredible detail. This picture in particular is a group of people—one I recognize to be a slightly-younger Link with an expression of mild surprise next to a stunningly beautiful light-haired woman. There is also a distressed Rito, shocked Zora, smirking Gerudo, and grinning Goron holding the group together.

I can’t help the grin that pulls at my lips before showing it to him. “This is so cool—are these some of your friends?”

Link doesn’t look as enthused, but I chalk it up to being rudely awakened at five in the morning. He averts his bright cyan eyes and seems to look anywhere but the photo. After a moment he gives a nod.

I don’t recognize any of the people, but all of them seem to be a close-knit group. _ This could revolutionize portraiture! The only people who really get their paintings done are Hyrule’s Royal Family… How many famous faces have been lost to history that we’ll never see? _

“You’ve never talked about them. Are you still close?” I ask, grabbing another one of the dozens of copies floating around the lab as Purah continues to struggle.

Link raises his hand and gives a _ so-so _ motion.

“You should invite them over sometime. I’d love to meet them, if it’s okay.”

He signs, _ They tend to be really busy. I’m not sure. _

“Oh, the Ch—?” Purah calls over her shoulder. She opens her mouth as though to say something, but her gaze briefly shifts over my shoulder before her lips press together and she cuts herself off. “Right. Link’s friends.”

It’s strange how her attitude changed on a dime, but I’m sure it’s because her attention is divided between us and her malfunctioning Guidance Stone. I try to hide my disappointment and gaze back to the photo, taking in the details. The shockingly beautiful young woman in the front and centre is dressed rather elegantly, and dons what I assume to be a dark dress; there’s only so many details you can make out in black and white. _ Is that the Triforce on her— _

“Got it!” Purah yells, the machine finally stopping.

I set the photo down and tread carefully over the crinkled papers. “This is monumental, Dr. Purah, really. I’ve never seen anything like this—and that’s coming from a person who’s seen Magnesis and Stasis.”

She giggles and it coerces laughter from myself, and she leans over the machine again. “I sorted the paper jam, and things should be okay now. I can print however many copies of each photo you want!”

I smile and turn to Link. “What do you say? Should we get paintings of your photos?”

His face flushes a bit and he opens his mouth in protest, but Purah interrupts. “Now, now, Link. I think that’s a rather great idea, don’t you?” Her tone almost seems mischievous, but that may just be her normal voice. “After all, I went through all that trouble of fixing your camera rune a month and a half ago. Remember that?”

Link’s face shifts to a new shade of pink, causing me to glance back at Purah in uncertainty. _ What’s come over him? _

“(Y/N) so nicely delivered it to me. And I sent that letter back to you too. You remember, I’m sure.” An impish smirk seems to make its way onto her childlike face.

“Link…?” I query, her tone of voice making implications that I’m unsure about.

“And...snap!”

The Guidance Stone begins its cacophony of sounds in conjunction with this ‘printer’ that Purah has devised, and begins to roll out portraits at a steadier rate. And this time they’re all different rather than forty-six copies of Link and his acquaintances. The first dozen or so are stunning scenery shots from across Hyrule, which brings a warm smile to my face.

“I recognize this one—it’s Kara Kara Bazaar, right?” I glimpse back at Link, who gives a nod despite still appearing rather flustered. “And this one has to be in Central Province, I can tell by the fields…”

I carry on and sift through them, motivated by my piqued curiosity. The ink is still wet and I’m mindful of not setting the papers on top of one another, but line them up on the elongated seat of Dr. Purah’s workbench instead. I’m positively blown away by the scenes, and while I knew Link was a traveller years ago it’s still shocking to see just how many places he’s been.

“Here’s the next baaaaatch!” Purah sings.

I spin on my heel so I can pluck them from where they rest after the machine has rolled them out, sitting in the argent metal tray. After I wave the parchment to let the ink dry I take a look at the photo, only for my face to fall in my confusion.

It’s a picture of me, but not the one Purah took of me sitting outside in front of the early sunset. Instead it’s me laying sideways on Link’s couch, my legs slung over one of the arms as I rest in front of the fire, a sign language book in my lap. I’m fast asleep as I lay comfortably in front of the fireplace’s warmth.

“Link…?” I question though I already know the answer, feeling the heat raise to my own cheeks.

Another paper slides onto the table, this time being a picture of me lounging against the oak tree in Link’s yard. My arms are comfortably tucked behind my head as I smile, clearly daydreaming or lost in thought.

A third one depicts me picking some flowers, and I recognize it from the day Link and I went hunting together. There’s a shallow focus on the stems of some flowers but a clearer focus on the ones I hold in my hands, my mouth open as I talk and pick more.

They continue to come one after another, a dozen—no, two dozen at least. All of them are candid shots of me either smiling, during calm moments, or being sleepy. I peer over to Link who’s staring hard at the floor, red from his ears to his toes. _ So this is why he didn’t want me to see the camera and photos. That’s why Purah was laughing about it last time. _I’m overcome with so many feelings that I’m not sure what to feel, exactly. Giddiness, embarrassment, sheepishness. However I know it doesn’t compare to Link’s shy, wallflower-like personality and how this scenario is surely affecting him.

I step over the papers, still holding the shots of myself in my arms. “Link?” I wait for him to timidly look up at me before I say, “These are beautiful.”

I’m partially concerned that he’ll black out based on how much blood has gone to his head. He raises his hands to shakily sign, _ I didn’t mean it to be creepy or make you uncomfortable, you just...looked so pretty, I couldn’t help myself. _

A grin spreads across my face and I lean over to catch his lips in a brief kiss. “They’re sweet! I never knew you were even taking these, haha… Guess I should pay more attention to my surroundings, huh?”

That gets a shy smile from him and he continues. _ I just wanted to save those moments. _

“And I’m glad you did. I’m not mad with you at all, I’m mostly just embarrassed… After all, I’m not the prettiest sleeper.” I giggle, my own cheeks tinted pink.

_ I think you are_. Link glances away momentarily when he signs that, but I just smile wider.

“Looks like we’ll have quite a few to take home. Maybe we can hang some on the walls?”

He brightens with my suggestion and gives a nod of his head, slowly returning to his normal self. If anything, he just seems relieved that I’m not angry; but how could I be? Perhaps if it was someone I didn’t know, then it’d be a different story. But this is _ Link_. Darling, sweetheart, adorable Link, who doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. The person I gave myself to, for Hylia’s sake—it goes to show how much I trust him.

“Alright, I’m happy and all that you’ve finally realized each other’s feelings, but a laboratory is a place where you show your love for _ science _. Not whatever...hanky-panky you two are into.” Purah teases from where she stands by the Guidance Stone, a wry smile playing on her lips.

We both blush and give nervous laughter.

“Now I’ve got to work out some more kinks to make the process cleaner, and have this printer run smoother. Thanks for letting me borrow the Sheikah Slate, Linky!” She flashes a peace sign to him and lifts it from its snug place in the Guidance Stone. It makes a soft click before unlocking itself from the mount and the screen turns black.

Link treads over, mindful of the scattered papers so that he can pocket the Slate once more. I pipe up and say, “We should at least help you clean up, don’t you think? After all, this is...quite the mess.”

I gesture around myself at the dozens of sheets and messes of ink spread across the main room. My knees crack slightly as I bend down to grab some, but a sharp twinge in my lower stomach has me cringing and forces me to pause. I try to grab some papers but standing back up proves to be even worse, the dull throb between my thighs only growing more pronounced.

Purah snickers. “I’ll be okay, I can get Symin to help me. Besides, it looks like you’re having trouble walking after all that...hard work.”

Her insinuation only makes my face burn brighter and I can say the same for Link at my side, who takes my elbow to steady me. When I’m stable on my feet I lean over to stack the numerous photos of landscapes and myself, feeling another pang in my abdomen.

“Get on home and rest, lovebirds. And be sure not to do any more _ strenuous _ activities for the rest of the day.” She only giggles more at our embarrassment, clearly getting her kicks from it.

“And be sure to knock before walking in,” I shoot back as we begin to head to the doors.

“Be sure to lock the doors!”

I shake my head at her jabs, still feeling flushed but knowing Purah’s rooting for us makes it a little better. That, and knowing that Link evidently cared for me long before either of us admitted it—these photos may as well be our personal treasures.


	24. Jessamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the night is more fearsome than it should be.

After hanging up some of the pictures in frames and setting the others away for another time, our lives went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be.

Almost every day subsequent to our first night together for a week we’d been fucking. This newfound passion and experience that neither of us previously had practically made us love drunk, and it showed. For at least a week straight there were permanent hickeys on mine or Link’s necks. We’d had sex on the guest bed, his bed, the couch, the kitchen counter, hell, even the stairs at one point. I simply couldn’t get enough of him and it seemed he returned the sentiment. My thighs stopped their aching after the third or fourth day when my body seemed to realize I wasn’t about to quit anytime soon—much like when a repeated workout fails to make your body sore like it used to. Either way we were attached at the hip, both figuratively and literally. Yet despite the strength of my feelings and the yearning to be close, I still felt that antsy travel bug rearing its head again. Even Link’s amazing cooking and even better lovemaking couldn’t make that craving for adventure fade.

I sit at Link’s side while we share another meal, this one being some meat pies I’d prepared the day before. Settling into life in the Hateno Village is something that I’ve begun to imagine, and this time with less uncertainty. I’m unsure if it’s the honeymoon phase of our relationship or genuine trust, but either way I’m more tempted to call Link’s house ‘home’ with every passing day.

His hand slides over to mine to give a squeeze which I return along with a smirk from the corner of his eye. When I’ve finished every morsel of the rich elk meat, I gather my plate and dishes to wash in the kitchen’s basin. As I pour steaming water from the kettle into the basin, Link finishes his own meal and sets his plate over mine. I can feel his secure arms slide around my waist and his chin rest on my shoulder.

“Save that for later… Let’s go on a walk,” he quietly proposes.

“It’ll give the dishes time to soak,” I agree, setting them into the wooden basin before drying my hands.

Link takes my hand with ease and interlaces our fingers as we head for the door. “Where’re we headed tonight? Around Camphor Pond? Up to Lake Sumac?”

He gives an amicable shrug. “I was thinking around Lake Jarrah. We could cross Fir River.”

“Oh, a long loop. I like it.”

“It’s already a bit dark. There should be a lot of fireflies out.”

My grin only broadens, my cheeks nearly aching from all the smiling I’ve done lately. “That sounds wonderful.”

Link’s hand stays in mine, the two of us walking in stride so closely that our shoulders brush. I’ll never be able to ascertain how or why his presence makes me feel so safe, so invulnerable. From the first day I met him with my starving stomach I already had that impression. I can only hope he feels the same towards myself.

The evening has already begun to cross the threshold to night, the air dim and slightly chilled. Nothing I haven’t gotten used to here in Hateno Village, where the drafts of Mount Lanayru are commonplace. The two of us know our way well enough to not rely on a lantern unlike travelling merchants or other hikers. We give small waves to the odd stranger who passes by on a horse, following the dirt path like us. As we pass Camphor Pond Link guides me westward towards the looping path that dips down by Lake Jarrah’s shore—the same place that he saw me naked months ago.

To think I was so embarrassed about him seeing my body at one point; and for him to be so flustered! While Link is still incredibly bashful and shy at the best of times, he’s nowhere near the level of mortification of that day I was bathing.

Like he predicted, there are dozens of fireflies lazily fluttering over the shallow water’s surface. There appear to be hundreds more when their rippling counterparts are reflected over Lake Jarrah. Even though this isn’t my first time seeing so many fireflies, the sight proves to be just as captivating each time.

Their bright jessamy yellow bottoms cast a soft glow over Link’s face, a sight which captures me in awe. The light bouncing off of his soft cheekbones and straight nose is compelling enough for me to kiss him, and after staring for a minute I’m able to snap out of the reverie when Link catches my gaze. Instead of being startled I find that he’s followed the same line of thinking, presumably enraptured by my appearance in the low light. It’s enough to briefly fluster me—there’s a difference between him having four fingers in me versus being hypnotized by the simple sight of me. There’s a different kind of intimacy felt that is no less valuable yet somehow makes me even more flustered.

Instead of breaking him out of the trance, I lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. “You were right. It’s beautiful out here tonight.”

That gently snaps Link back to his senses and he rests his hands on my hips. “I’m glad you like it. Want to sit?”

I nod before stepping back, shuffling closer to the lake’s bank before lowering myself to sit on the damp grass. Link’s at my side not a moment later, lounging on his back.

“Careful you don’t get any spiders in your hair,” I taunt.

Even in the dim light I can see his face fall into a nonplussed pout. He lifts his arms to place his hands under his head, as though that would stop any bugs from making a home in his silky hair. I giggle before resting back, placing my cheek on his chest and loosely draping an arm over his stomach. One of his hands comes back to rest on the crown of my head, combing gingerly through my (H/C) locks. It’d be enough to send me to sleep if I wasn’t trying so hard to memorize his features in the firefly’s light.

We lay in silence at the water’s edge, listening to the fading birdsong as owls begin to make themselves known with their tenor _ hoo-hoo_’s. Even the cicadas have begun to lull into the occasional buzz. Normally chatter of the townsfolk can be heard from this distance; Hateno Village always has been a lively bunch. Yet with almost everyone in for the night it’s nearly silent, save for the distant drunken whoop from The Great Pon Tu Inn’s pub. The stars hide themselves amongst the jessamy light of the fireflies.

“Link…?” I question, voice hushed.

“Mm?”

“I was thinking… That maybe I’d want to go on another trip.”

His brows raise and I can see his blue eyes resting on my own (E/C) ones. “Yeah? Where were you thinking?”

My fingers idly tap against his chest over the thick material of his shirt, listening to his heartbeat where I lay. “I wasn’t sure yet… Maybe somewhere a bit further.” I purse my lips before saying the suggestion I already had in mind. “I was thinking of Zora’s Domain, maybe. I’ve heard that Lanayru is lovely at this time of year.”

Link gives a nod. “It is. I think that’s a great idea.”

His trust in me only serves to put a smile on my face. Now that we’re past the awkward phase where every romantic move could be seen as _ too much_, it’s refreshing to hold an unwavering trust in each other. Link knows I’ll return and I can tell he lacks the worries he had during my previous trip to Lurelin Village. I know I’ll always come back home even if it means fighting tooth and nail.

“Would you go through the Wetlands?” he asks.

“Hm?” I’m snapped out of my thoughts. “I haven’t looked at a map yet, but probably. That’s where most roads converge, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s a high traffic path so it’ll be safer than a shortcut.”

Even through small suggestions I can see how deeply Link’s love truly is. “You’re so sweet.”

“I am?”

“Of course you are. Suggesting the safest path for the journey.”

“Well I wouldn’t want you to go on a dangerous one…”

I snicker and bop him on the nose with a finger. “You’re a lot more sure this time around. When I mentioned going to Lurelin before, you were a little more...shall we say, high-strung?”

If it wasn’t for the dusk then I’d know his cheeks have become rosy. “I-I was just...nervous. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

My hand brushes some of my hair back before I shake my head. “Even if I was, I’m sure I would find someone to help along the way. And nothing would stop me from coming back to you.”

I accentuate the sincere words by crawling forward on my elbows. Link already knows what I have in mind and props himself up on an elbow to meet me halfway. Our lips meet as they have perhaps hundreds of times before by now, though they still meld together as perfectly as the first time (that we were sober). My hand that rests on his chest lightly balls up the material of his shirt, allowing myself to fall more into the kiss.

His arms encircle me with ease and lower me to his own body, the warmth he gives easily penetrating my own clothing. It’s a welcome feeling in the brisk evening air. I can’t help but smile against his lips, letting my other hand raise to cup his soft cheek. The sound he makes is reminiscent of a contented sigh, and though neither of us are opposed to escalating the make-out, I’m aware that Link wouldn’t feel comfortable in a place such as this. Perhaps if we were more secluded and not a pebble’s throw from the busiest path into Hateno Village, even though visitors are fewer and further between at this time of night.

I can feel the warmth of his hands travel from my back to my waist, slowly rubbing my sides to keep my body heat up. After a few minutes I part from his lips and give a final, fleeting kiss to his cheek before resting back down.

“Thank you, Link.”

“Hm? For what?”

My head rolls to glance back up at him with a soft gaze. “Just for being you.”

  
  
  
  


When the cold became too unbearable for us to stave off with body heat alone, the two of us decided to retire to the cottage. I’m sure to feed the fire as Link changes, listening to the crackling wood as the sap fizzles under the intense heat. _ Hmm… When should I leave for the Domain? In another day and a half would work, I’m sure. I don’t want to suddenly spring it onto Link, but at the same time it’s hard to wait. _ I sigh through my nose before turning and treading to my pack to fish out some clean clothes to sleep in.

Changing is quick work before I head up the steps to Link’s ‘bedroom’ of sorts, being that the entire house is open. He sits at his desk where he scrawls with a quill onto a piece of parchment. One sneaky peek over his shoulder lets me know it’s just the grocery list, so I pad over the wood floor to throw my weight onto his mattress. It’s softer and more worn in than mine on the lower floor, and an added bonus is that it smells like him.

A soft musk with notes of pine and the scent of clean air after it rains. I curl myself up in the sheets until I’m a worm and peer over the edge of the thick comforter to watch Link. Everything about him is so peaceful and the only word I can ever think of to describe him is adorable. Not long after does he set the pen back into the inkwell and slides his chair back from the desk so that he can join me in bed. His eyes light up when he catches sight of me completely swathed in his blankets, and even in the low light I can see his dimples.

“You look like a Molduga. But a cute one.” Link sits on the edge of the bed and so I roll away, unraveling myself from the blankets despite being so comfy.

I shudder from the cool air but also the imagery. “I saw the fin of one in Gerudo. That was enough for me. I may be a good fighter, but I’m not _ that _ good.”

“Really? I thought you would take one on easily,” Link teases, sliding under the blankets before gathering me into his arms.

“I’m brave, not stupid,” I jest with a giggle before squirming to settle down against his body.

“You’re sure?”

My hand gives a gentle pat to his chest and I pretend to be offended. “I’m _ hurt_, Link. Deeply. Your words cut me.”

“I’m kidding.” His soft lips press to my forehead, assuring me even though I knew he never meant it from the beginning. Even his teasing is mindful, never wanting to hurt someone accidentally. It’s yet another endearing quality that I can add to the overflowing jar labelled ‘Reasons Why I Love Him’.

“I know. Night, Link. Love you.” I tilt my head up enough to give him a brief kiss on the lips which he returns, his arms momentarily squeezing me.

“Night. I love you too, (Y/N).”

  
  
  
  


Normally nights between us are spent in dead silence, especially since I’ve become a heavy sleeper since essentially ‘moving in.’ Normally I slept with one eye open during my travels, staying wary of wild animals or ne’er-do-wells on the trails. Link doesn’t move much in his sleep, almost completely still as though he’s hibernating. Unless we’re in a frenzied passion, nights pass peacefully.

Which makes it all the more strange when I wake up to the feeling of rolling off of Link’s chest. The movement shifts me onto the mattress and I sleepily blink, before shutting my eyes to drift off again. What stops me however is the sharp intake of breath I hear, followed by a choked-back sound.

It’s enough to rouse me completely and I push myself up on my arms. In the darkness it’s difficult to see anything, but the moonlight flooding in from the window highlights the sheen of sweat covering Link’s forehead. His head thrashes to the side, brows knit together and he grimaces in distress. The sight tugs at my heart and so I reach a hand forward to gingerly rest on his shoulder.

“Link? Link?” When he doesn’t wake I risk raising my voice a bit and giving a light squeeze to his shoulder—I don’t want to scare him but I know he needs to be woken from whatever nightmare he may be having. “Link?”

He gasps and the action makes his back arch, and his bright blue eyes snap open. Rather than being captivating as usual, they’re filled with fear and brimmed with tears. One of his hands instantly goes to the wrist of my hand resting on his shoulder, wrenching it around to twist.

A pained cry leaves my lips at the movement, but the moment it does, Link seems to snap back to reality. His unsteady gaze moves to his hand holding my own at an uncomfortable angle and he lets go as though my skin could burn him. Whatever it was he thought was happening clearly isn’t, and I hold no grudge as I shake out my wrist. His own hands lift to run through his hair before fisting in the blond locks, and his body folds forward until his head is between his knees.

“Link, I’m here, okay?” My voice is back to its hushed tone. “I’m sorry for waking you, but you looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Link’s head turns enough for the moonlight to catch the tears in his eyes which have now streaked down his cheeks in a glimmering trail. His hands incessantly tremble and seem locked in place, gripping his hair painfully. I can see his mouth open and start to mouth _ I-I’m sorr_— before a sob leaves his lips instead. The sight of it completely breaks my heart. I’m compelled to reach forward and place a careful hand on his back, the sheets now crumpled at my hips.

“Shh, sh, you don’t have to apologize. I know you’d never mean it, you were just scared.” Even as I speak his breaths are uneven and rapid, and I can feel his body tremble under my touch. Link sniffles and curls up a bit tighter.

I recognize it as a panic attack, and one much worse than the attack I witnessed months ago. _ Much _ worse. Seeing him suffering physically pains me, knowing exactly how it feels. I rub his back in slow circles before daring to scoot closer.

“Link, babe, it’s okay to cry. I’m right here, okay? It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay.” I’m sure to make my tone as soothing as possible.

I’m not sure if he attempts to give a nod or if his body just spasms. He sobs again and makes a quiet, prolonged wail that shatters my heart. _ Of all people, he would never deserve to feel like this… _

“Babe, can you look up at me please?”

Link swallows thickly, his hands still knotted in his hair that he nearly threatens to pull out. After a tense moment and another whimper he forces his shaking body to sit up. I gingerly reach forward to rest my hands on his own, interlacing them and coercing his fingers to let go. It’s as though they’re the hands of a corpse with rigor mortis setting in. He allows his fingers to unlock at my gentle command and I bring them forward, holding both of his in both of mine.

“You’re still here and so am I, we’re both okay. Can you follow my breathing?”

He gives a stuttering nod and I return an encouraging smile. I take a slow breath inwards through my nose, counting to four in my head. Even that length must be an unbearable eternity for someone in the midst of a panic attack, where every second feels like a minute. I hold it for two seconds before letting it go for a count of four out of my mouth. Link follows but I can still feel his hands jerk in my own.

“Good, babe, let’s keep going. In through your nose and out through your mouth. One, two, three, four…”

His hands clasp mine as though begging for me to not let go, but luckily I didn’t plan on it. His eyes are unfocused and still filled with such a primal fear that it truly represents the rush of unwarranted adrenaline during an attack. Link mirrors me as we keep breathing; the last thing I want him to do is hyperventilate and lose consciousness. Speaking from experience, it’s not exactly an enthralling thing to do.

The more he blinks the more his thick lashes cause the tears to fall, streaking a glowing white trail down his lightly-tanned skin. They drop from his chin to the blankets over his knees, creating damp spots. He swallows thickly before reminding himself to keep breathing.

I can recall my own panic attacks from long ago, some of the worst I had leading up to the Calamity. The sky swirled with reds and blacks and uninviting magentas, and we knew that an attack was imminent. There was nothing for any of us to do except wait and pray the hero of legend would awaken and defeat Calamity Ganon. I spent nearly every day sick to my stomach, too panicked to even keep food down. The constant trembling of my body made my limbs sore and lock up, yet the shaking never stopped. Neither did the nightmares. Dreams of being awoken to the walls of our meager house being torn down, peeled away like fragile paper. Tendrils of darkness would slither along the floor and grab my parents by the ankles before dragging them out, screaming and clawing at the ground while I sat, frozen. Each night resulted in being awoken by yet another panic attack, one that could leave me heaving up mere bile since there was no supper in my stomach. The intense, acidic burning in my throat would only prompt dry sobs as my heart pounded against my ribcage, my shaking legs unable to support me. Along with Calamity Ganon, I developed a fear of sleeping. Life was hell and I promised myself that if the hero could save Hyrule then I would conquer every fear or anxiety I’d ever had.

I can see a similar desperate expression in Link’s eyes, his face blanched from more than just the pale moon. His inhales steady and while the tremors are less violent, his sobs are still silent and persist.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. Do you want me to get you some water?” I offer, stroking the back of his hand with my fingertips.

Link thinks on it and I can see the gears turning before he ultimately shakes his head. He retracts one hand from mine to raise and shakily sign, _ Please stay. _

I nod. “I can do that. I’m not going anywhere. Did you want to lay down?”

He agrees to that idea much quicker and I guide him to turn before relaxing his body, allowing him to rest his head on my thighs. His face is turned towards my stomach and the dampness of his tears chills my skin, but I’m far from bothered or even paying it any mind. Link’s body loosely curls and I feel his quivering hands press to my lower back to hug himself closer.

It’s another few minutes before his sobs subside and he sniffles, trying to lean away so he doesn’t further ruin my shirt. I rest a light hand to his head and allow him to meet my eyes which convey a gentle, _ I don’t mind. Just rest however you feel comfortable. _

Link gives one final sniffle before rolling so the back of his head rests upon my thighs. My fingers card through his sweat-soaked bangs, combing them back from his chilled forehead. While on his back his hands lift to begin hesitantly signing.

_ I had a nightmare. _

“I thought so. I’m sorry for scaring you when you woke up.”

_ I’m sorry for hurting you. _

“You didn’t. I was just surprised and I know you’d never intentionally do that.”

Link’s eyes are downcast and he moves an arm to wipe his tears on. I recall the weeks when we first met and he was closed off in his own humble way. Never showing any negative emotions, never voicing problems or anything that made him uncomfortable, and hiding on the few occasions he cried. Reflecting back on those memories puts into perspective the trust he must have in me now. And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it never breaks.

After a pause, he continues to sign with some pauses as his frazzled thoughts reconnect. _ I had a dream. A nightmare. That everyone I knew was dying. _

My face falls and I continue to brush through his hair. I give him all the time he needs to formulate his thoughts.

_ And I. They were dying and I... _

I allow another thirty seconds before soothing him. “You don’t have to force yourself, Link. You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

His lips purse before signing again. _ And I couldn’t do anything. Everyone was dying and I couldn’t protect them. I failed. I failed. I’m a failure. _

“Shh, please don’t say that about yourself, Link. You’re incredibly kind and have a heart of gold… You’re so considerate and everything anyone could ever want in a partner. You’re perfectly you, and I love everything about you,” I say, my voice filled with the purest sincerity I can muster. “I’m sure everyone else in Hateno Village would agree.”

He seems to consider my words, hands lowering as he mulls them over. I continue to stroke through his hair without pause before using one hand to take his own. I press a kiss to each knuckle and punctuate my affections with a light squeeze. “So please don’t call yourself a failure.”

Link gives a nod and pulls his hand back to sign. _ I had to watch them die. They depended on me but I let them die. _

A sad smile pulls at my lips before resting a hand to his cheek. “It’s okay, Link—it was only a nightmare. It’s not real.”

He swallows thickly and still seems rattled, and there’s a prolonged silence between us before Link nods slowly.

“Everyone is okay. I’m okay and you’re right here with me. No one’s dying.” I lean down to peck his damp forehead. “Let me get you some water now that you’ve calmed down?”

He nods, so I cradle his head as I move it from my lap. The wooden floorboards are freezing and pierce the soles of my feet like needles, so I only step on the balls of my feet as I jog down the stairs. After finding a clean glass in the cupboard and filling it with some water from the tap, I head back upstairs to where Link sits.

He’s swung his legs so he sits on the edge of the bed, toes on the floor. Link signs a _ thank you _ when I hand him the glass and I reply with a _ you’re welcome. _ His sips are tentative as he gradually drinks. I stay nearby but don’t put an arm around him, not wanting him to feel smothered by my presence—similar to how cats dislike being pet while they eat.

He eventually lowers the half-empty cup to rest in his hands between his knees, head angled down. With the moonlight behind us, his face is dark and I’m unable to make out any expression.

“Do you feel a bit better?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound pushy.

Link nods and signs, _ Yes. Much better. I’m sorry I woke you up. _

I tuck back some of my hair and shake my head. “It’s okay, I’d prefer being able to help you through it rather than have you deal with it by yourself.”

His head turns enough for the blue light to reveal his paled cheeks.

_ You’re too nice. _

“I’m not, I’m just doing what a girlfriend should.”

We each pause at the g-word which has yet to be said. That and the b-word, which both have been pranced around during the weeks we’ve spent as a couple. It’s as though the label would be the final cementing factor, and despite feeling a bit hesitant to say it, it feels right.

Link’s face falls into a soft, if not exhausted, smile. _ Thank you. I love you so much. _

“I love you too, Link. And I’ll always be willing to help you. I’d never judge you, I promise.” This time I raise an arm to wrap loosely around his side, which is an invitation for him to rest his head on my shoulder. He does just that.

The weight of his head on my shoulder lets me raise my hand to card through his hair again. As I do, he signs, _ And the same to you. _

I smile. “I know, babe. I know.”

Another silence passes between us, the only thing being heard is the shifting of sheets or the creaking of the house settling. When every last tremor has melted away and the glass is empty, Link sets it onto the small bedside table.

“Ready to sleep?”

He gives a nod and lifts the sheets that have long grown cold from our absence. I crawl under them before lying back. Rather than resting my head to his chest like earlier, I bring his own to my chest. It’s his favourite position even if he won’t admit it, and his arms loop around my middle the moment his head is settled. I rest a light hand to his head, forcing myself to stay awake until I know he’s asleep.

The adrenaline is enough to exhaust anyone, especially someone of Link’s stature. He gives a yawn after a few minutes, and after ten have passed, his breaths have calmed and evened out. I still watch just to be sure, seeing his peaceful face now resting without a worry. His body raises with each small breath of mine, and I keep my eyes open a bit longer to ensure he won’t wake anytime soon.

His tear tracks have dried and with one final kiss to the crown of his head, I lie back and allow myself to relax.

_ I’ll always be here for you, Link. _


End file.
